


We Always Have Options

by Rudbeck



Series: Options [2]
Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-19
Updated: 2017-03-03
Packaged: 2018-03-13 20:01:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 69,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3394559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rudbeck/pseuds/Rudbeck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Root and Sameen are ensconced in a secluded bungalow recovering from the aftermath of their attack on Samaritan.  They are exploring their tempestuous connection that has been simmering behind every word of their frequent verbal foreplay.</p>
<p>While the two women are coming to terms with their new deeper connection, the outside world continues to move forward.  Old adversaries are regrouping and with the addition of a new adversary, who has secrets of her own, ensures that the fight between The Machine and Samaritan is about to be renewed with a vengeance.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sequel to No Viable Options</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

We Always Have Options  
  
  
Chapter 1  
  
Finch limps into the chess playing area in Washington Square Park.  He stops to watch the many games being played by so many different people.  He enjoys watching the players for they are so like the battle that is being fought.  He can see the beginners that easily telegraph their moves, to the intermediate that are thinking a number of steps ahead to the almost, if not master level players.  Some players are serious, some are having fun playing the game for the simple enjoyment of being outdoors and with friends.  
  
One of the things the battle with Samaritan has taught him was to look deeper than what we think we are seeing.  He looks at one player in particular, who appears to be completely over matched but Finch has noticed his erratic play is a careful designed strategy to lure the far more competent opponent into a false sense of superiority.  His lips twitch in amusement as the over confident player is suddenly faced with check mate and has no idea how, a game he was easily winning, he has suddenly lost.  
  
The battle with Samaritan had become a chess match with both players evenly matched.  The opening gambits were designed to test and to learn from and about The Machine and any losses, suffered by Samaritan, were by Samaritan's standards, acceptable.  
  
Still the outlandish plan that Root, he, The Machine and other hackers had formulated was at the best insane and it had worked, if only temporarily.   Samaritan's network was still intact and Greer had escaped, possibly with backup hard drives, though they hadn't been able to confirm it.  
  
If Greer had escaped with the original backup drives, then Samaritan would in essence be starting from step one.  If this was the true then The Machine would be multiple steps ahead and perhaps intervene far sooner.  But that was a big if.  If nothing else this most recent encounter has shown that no matter how outlandish or statistically improbable every option had to be considered.  
  
The Government was being the Government and attempting to distance themselves from any association with Samaritan.  But with the timely release of classified documents, they were falling back on the standard Government argument of, National Security.  
  
Without the Government involvement and supposed oversight, Samaritan was free to associate with any Government or individuals that were willing to pay the price.  And that is what Finch feared the most and that's why he has programs that, along with The Machine, are scouring the world for any information that may give a hint of where Samaritan is hiding.  
  
Out of the corner of his eye he catches a glimpse of two brunette women that remind him of Shaw and Root.  The news he had of them was they were healing.  What that meant exactly, he wasn't sure nor truthfully did he want to know.  He wanted to tell both women that The Machine was back but had agreed with the assessment that they needed time to heal.  
  
He had observed the growing relationship between the two women and part of him was happy they had found each other.  And yet another part was concerned, for it gave one more piece of leverage for Samaritan to use against them.  But Root's relentless search for Shaw made it painfully clear to anyone that they were more than friends.  Now Greer knew this and would use this knowledge to Samaritan's advantage and, as strange as it sounded, The Machine's advantage too.  
  
What Samaritan and Greer, even with all of his experience, had failed to comprehend was that,  _All living things contain a measure of madness that moves them in strange, sometimes inexplicable ways.   This madness can be saving; it is part and parcel of the ability to adapt.   Without it, no species would survive. *_  
  
Samaritan would see this was a weakness and essentially it was but it was also a strength for it made two become one.  Each woman, on their own, was a formidable foe but together, well Finch feared for everyone if something were to tear apart the two women.  He knew Shaw's rampage would be as relentless as Root's was.  He shudders to think what would happen if either woman was killed.  
  
For now he would abide with the wishes of The Machine that they be left alone.  He looks up to one of the many camera's in the park and waits.  When the red light becomes solid, he nods in understanding that, _Our greatest glory is not in never falling but in rising every time we fall. *_   Slowly he walks out of the park.  
  
✶✶✶  
  
The mid morning light is baffled by the curtains that are moving with a slight breeze.  What it reveals is a room that looks as if a dust devil had not only descended on the room but had taken up residence.  
  
Pictures had been knocked askew, chairs were lying on their sides and clothes were everywhere.  In the middle of this destruction, sleeping peacefully on the bed, were Root and Sameen.  Only haphazardly covered by a sheet.  
  
Root's eyes snap open in fear until she looks to the warmth under her hand and finds it resting on a gently moving chest and over Sameen's heart.  Her fingers begin committing the texture of the warm skin to her memory with slow, soft caresses.  Carefully she moves closer to the warmth that beckons to her and smiles when said body shifts pulling Root in even closer.  
  
Her fingers continue the gentle caress as she listens to the rhythmic breathing of the woman that has come to mean so much to her.   After Hanna's disappearance and the circumstances that happened afterward, a person with no morals, someone who didn't care about anyone, not even about herself was born.  She did what she wanted, took what she wanted and all without a care in the world.  
  
She hadn't lied when she told Shaw that she was a big fan after reading about Shaw's exploits in the classified files.  The contents of the files painted a broad overview, so she knew what to expect.  Or least she thought she did until she opened the door.  That simple gesture of opening the door began a change that Root never saw coming.  And Root prided herself on perceiving the vast number of options, which is what made her so good.  But the effect of Sameen Shaw on her was not an option she had ever, even remotely, considered as a possibility.  
  
Harold had once said that, ' _Everyone is relevant to someone._ '  And I had thought that the only relevant person to me was lost that night outside of the library.  
  
Root continues her gentle caress as she looks around at the destruction they had created, but it was worth every scratch and bruise.  When she had caught up with Sameen outside the bungalow, she was captivated by the smoldering desire that was directed solely at her.  She barely remembered stepping forward before colliding with Sameen's already moving body.  
  
This first time wasn't a release of built up tension, it wasn't about sex, it wasn't about healing or being healed.  What it was, was primal in their desperate need to reaffirm that they had survived, that they were here, together.  
  
It was violent, it was angry.  Moans that rent the air were a mixture of pain and pleasure.   Clothing wasn't removed but rather torn to shreds in a desperate need for skin on skin contact, but even that wasn't enough.  Kisses were hard and rough with hands being anything but gentle as they dug and molded pliant skin.  
  
Fingers dug into the skin leaving half moon indents as well as long red scratches, even with the occasional breakage of skin that resulted in bleeding, that elicited deeper moans from connecting on such a primal level.  This was affirmation at its wildest and most desperate and it was so, so freeing.  
  
Their first orgasm, who's neither could be sure of, was quick and powerful and did nothing to lessen their overwhelming need to be as one.  
  
They came as one, or separately with the other following close behind.  Each orgasm, rather that making them feel satisfied, simply increased their need, their overwhelming desire for each other.   No quarter was expected or asked for.  Each woman gave and took what the other willingly offered.  
  
How long they spent exploring each other was lost as time meant nothing in their primal need to connect.  The salt from the ocean, their blood, the sweat created by their almost desperate need to be joined as one and their arousal mixed to become an ambrosia that neither seemed to be able to get enough of, though they tried.  
  
Finally their satiation was tempered to the point that their bodies had decided the time for rest was needed.  They collapsed into the bed, holding each other close.  
  
And that's where Root found herself when she awoke.  Sameen had been right, they had been a four alarm fire at an oil refinery and they were the accelerant.  
  
She could feel the need for food, and if she was hungry then Sameen would be starving.  But she was reluctant to move from the healing warmth her lover's body was providing.  The mere thought of Sameen as her lover brought a smile, that reached her eyes, to Root's face.  She had teased and flirted with Sameen for ages and it wasn't until the kiss in the elevator that she realized that Sameen had felt the same way.  
  
If Finch and Fusco hadn't pulled her away from the closing door, she would have torn through the elevator door regardless that Shaw had locked it.  That kiss, that Shaw, to her surprise, had initiated, had released something inside her and in Sameen.  
  
There has been a method to her relentless search.  Part of her knew, or really, if she was honest with herself, hoped, that Shaw would be of more use to Samaritan alive than dead.  She could be used as bait to draw out Root, Finch and Reese.  That's why some of Samaritan's agents were allowed to escape after being feed specific information that would be relayed to Samaritan.  
  
And despite all the odds the utterly absurd plan had worked, almost too well.  They had gotten a battered, bruised and far closer to death than Root ever wanted to admit to, Sameen back.  It had taken every argument The Machine had to keep Root from storming Samaritan's compound in retaliation.  The Machine's statement of, ' _If you go, you will die as will asset Shaw,'_ convinced Root to stop.  
  
As Sameen healed, Root threw herself into creating the virus, along with other hackers, that would be the distraction The Machine needed to enter Samaritan's network undetected.  Or at least they hoped it would.  
  
The gentle stroke of a hand on Root's back has her arching into the contact.  Fingers lift her chin until two sets of brown eyes share an intense look.  A raspy, "You're thinking too much again," has her surging forward to capture those lips that had brought her so much pleasure.  
  
But this kiss wasn't like the one that had initiated the four alarm fire last night.  This was gentle and healing.  Her eyes sparkling, Root shifts until she resting on top of Sameen and staring into her eyes.  "Morning sweetie.  Sleep well?"  
  
"I was until somebody decided to start thinking too much."  
  
A mischievous look on Root's face has her leaning closer until her lips are ghosting over Sameen's.  "Now how can I ever…." a loud rumble from Sameen's stomach has Root collapsing in laughter.  Her voice is muffled against Sameen's neck, "Guess somebody's hungry."  As she starts to move her motion is thwarted by arms around her back.  She lifts her head to meet Sameen's eyes that are darkening with desire, "I am hungry," her fingers begin caressing Root's soft back, "For food as well."  
  
Root's bark of laughter is smothered by Sameen's kiss.  Reluctantly Root ends the kiss, "I'm hungry also."  She slides out of the bed, stretching the kinks out of her body.  She starts to walk away, pauses and coyly looks over her shoulder to catch Sameen's appreciative perusal of her nakedness.  "And maybe after we satisfy one hunger, we can see what we can do about the other."  She resumes walking and smiles as she hears Sameen exiting the bed to chase after her.  
  
  
tbc


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2  
  
Reese stands on the roof of a nearby building observing and taking pictures of the beehive of activity around the compound where Samaritan had been.  Large cranes were lifting up sections of the walls and floors before depositing them in waiting dump trucks.  On the side of the trucks and cranes is the logo for MID ACE.  
  
He taps his earbud, "Harold, they're working around the clock clearing out the building."  
  
In the subway a feed of the activity that Reese has been describing comes up on the monitors.  "Has there been any indication that the servers have been removed?"  Finch watches as another feed appears showing Reese standing on the roof.  
  
Reese looks toward the camera, "Nothing.  Anything on this removal and clean up company?"  
  
Finch sits in front of the computer and begins typing, "From all appearances MID ACE has been a family owned business since the 1940's.  If Decima wanted to hide any connections to this company, it wouldn't be difficult."  
  
"No, it wouldn't."  The sudden stop of all movement on the site draws Reese's attention.  He zooms in with the camera.  "Harold something's happening."  
  
The security camera zooms in as one of the cranes begins lifting.  Out of the demolished interior, a rescue basket emerges with the contents covered in a blanket.  Just as the basket is lowered to the ground, Government cars enter the demolition site.  
  
"Seems the Government has decided to finally take an interest."  
  
"It seemed prudent to inform our contact of the recent activity taking place.  We wouldn't want the taxpayers money being wasted."  
  
Reese smirks, "No, we wouldn't."  He watches as the blanket is pulled back from the basket exposing the battered remains of a body.  Enough of her head remains intact to make a positive ID.  "Seems Martine didn't make it out alive."  
  
"I'm sure Miss Shaw and Miss Groves will be pleased with the news but until we know for certain, I will refrain from telling them."  
  
"You think she survived?"  
  
"I do not.  But I would rather have it confirmed by our contact before we inform Miss Shaw and Miss Groves."  
  
Reese nods at the security camera, "Understandable."  A slight movement from an adjacent building catches his attention.  "Finch, seems we're not the only ones interested in what's happening here."  He aims his camera towards the movement he had seen and barely has time to take a quick picture before the figure disappears.  
  
"Mr. Reese?"  
  
"Whoever it was, definitely didn't want to be seen.  Sending you the picture now."  
  
On the monitor, a picture of a figure dressed in all black appears.  No features can be made out.  "I'll check the surrounding cameras to try and track our mystery person."  
  
Reese turns back to the demolition site and smiles at the argument that is happening between the Government official and the owner of MID ACE.  "Seems someone's not happy about being shut down.  
  
✶✶✶  
  
The figure in black stands in the shadows amused at the argument that is almost loud enough to be heard.  The figure steps closer to a set up parabolic dish and hooks up an attachment to a cell phone.  
  
The last part of an angry, "Imbeciles." is heard before the microphone picks up a call being made.  Coming through the speaker is Greer's voice, "What news?"  
  
"They've shut down the site."  
  
"Expected.  Was anything salvageable?"  
  
"No, sir.  We did retrieve the body you asked us to find."  
  
"Then Martine is dead."  
  
"Yes, sir.  What are your orders?"  
  
"Nothing.  Resume your regular activities until you are contacted again."  
  
"And the body?"  
  
"She is no longer our concern."  
  
The phone call ends but is long enough for two pairs of coordinates to materialize on the phone screen before the words signal lost appears.  
  
Another program is activated and the exact location of each coordinate is given.  A softly whispered, "Gotcha." is heard.  
  
  
  
✶✶✶  
  
Sameen pauses in the doorway, her fingers releasing their hold on the buttons of her shirt.  She was beguiled by the seemingly carefree woman who is almost skipping around the kitchen as she cooks.  The soft curls that created such an amazing sensation when they trailed over her heated skin were bouncing with each step, teasing her with a glimpse of skin that she had spent a lot of time learning every glorious inch of.  
  
The short sleeved white button down shirt that Root had donned was concealing, well Sameen knew exactly what was under that shirt.   Her eyes darkened as they traveled down the long back to where the tail of the shirt barely covered the swell of buttocks.  
  
Then there were those legs that seemed to go on forever.  They were so soft to the touch and yet deceptively strong.  She catches her breath at the memory of feeling Root's legs wrapped around her and keeping her close.  
  
One hunger was replacing another as she steps towards the woman dancing in the kitchen.  
  
Root moves with ease around the kitchen checking the various pans.  She would have been perfectly comfortable wearing nothing and had only donned the shirt to protect herself while cooking.  
  
She has just moved the scrambled eggs off of the burner and momentarily stiffens when two arms slide around her waist pulling her backwards.  She relaxes into the embrace.  
  
A whimper escapes from her mouth when the single button holding her shirt closed, is slowly unbuttoned and the shirt is pushed open.   Any thought of brunch, or any food for that matter, disappears in a flash from the sensation of two hands that were lightly drawing patterns on her stomach.  She arches into the teasing touch, "Oh Sameen," as the hands begin languid strokes from her hips to the underside of her breasts.  
  
A breathless, "I thought you were hungry."  
  
A husky, "I am,"  Her fingers come to rest under Root's breasts as two fingers gently brush over turgid flesh, "Just not for food."  
  
Root's eyes close from the sensations that Sameen's hands and fingers were creating within her.  The languid strokes continued up and down her torso with the occasional scrape of fingernails as well as the lightest of touches on her breasts.  
  
Her legs separate as fingers lightly stroke the inside of her thighs.  Her hips arch desperate for more contact from fingers that are tantalizingly close to where she needs them the most.  But her moans of pleasure do nothing to increase the speed of Sameen's touches.  
  
Eyes close as she leans further against Sameen and fights her natural instinct to turn around and take control.  So lost in the sensations that are coursing through her she fails to realize that she has been turned around and is now face to face with Sameen.  A softly whispered, "Hey," has her eyes fluttering open to meet the heated gaze of her lover.  
  
A slow smile appears as her arms come to rest on Sameen's shoulders.  "Hey yourself."  She leans forward to capture lips that have driven her crazy, and will continue to do so, and gasps against those lips when the hands that had been roaming over her body comes to rest under her buttocks and lift.  Root's legs naturally wrap around Sameen's waist.  
  
How they ended up on the dining room table, would be open for debate, but it was fitting.  They were the sustenance the other required that neither ever knew they were missing or even looking for.  
  
Their first time had been violent, simply a need to reaffirm they had survived, that they were together when all of the odds were against this ever happening.  
  
This, this was making love in every meaning of the word.  Each stroke of amazingly gentle fingers and soft kisses are a heady combination of arousing and healing touches.  Both can feel every ache, every scar, external and internal, wasting away until they seem like nothing but a faint memory.  
  
They came as one and then separately but always closely followed by the other.  Finally a satisfied, at least for the time being, Sameen collapses on top of an equally satisfied Root.  Their labored breathing was slowly evening out until they were in sync.  
  
Root's fingers gently caress Sameen's sweaty back.  A soft chuckle has Sameen lifting her head to look into amused eyes.  "What?"  
  
"I've never…."  Her eyes close then open when Sameen shifts forward, their bodies naturally adjusting to the change in position, until they are looking into each others eyes.  
  
"Never?"  
  
"Never."  
  
Matching smiles light up both women's faces.  Little by little their lips close the distance until just before they touch Sameen whispers, "Neither have I."  
  
Before the kiss can deepen, a loud rumble emits from both women.  They break the kiss, laughing.  
  
"Food?"  
  
"Definitely."  
  
✶✶✶  
  
Greer enters the room where technicians are unpacking and wiring the new servers that Samaritan will need when it comes back on line.  
  
Contingency plans were a normal in his line of work and that's why he was so surprised when he had been blindsided by Root's actions and that was saying a lot considering his vast experience.  Now he knew better and would plan accordingly.  
  
He looks around and smiles.  This backup site was part of a sprawling, abandoned military installation that was now a state park and helped hide what was really occurring below ground.  The appropriate payout or bribes to be exact ensured that all of the current park employees actually worked for Samaritan.  It was the perfect cover.  
  
They had taken great care not to disturb any of the crumbling buildings that were above ground.  There were the occasional urban explorers but a carefully disguised flooded area below the ground floors kept even the most ardent of explorers from investigating further.  
  
The number of subterranean levels had even surprised him and would help in keeping cool the number of servers that Samaritan required.  
  
Greer chuckles at some of the outlandish claims that were associated with this former military installation.  Experiments in time travel, with aliens and even mind control were the normal claims.  
  
The last encounter with The Machine had been a hard lesson to learn but Samaritan had survived and that was all that mattered.  This time when Samaritan came back online, they would be better prepared.  
  
He knew The Machine was back online and looked forward to their next encounter.  But this time it would be at Samaritan's discretion.  And he was looking forward to what the future held in store.  
  
For a split second Greer almost mourned the loss of Martine but knew there were more like her.  And if there wasn't, then he smirked at the thought, he would simply create one.  
  
  
tbc  
  
  



	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Translation is from Google translate.

Chapter 3  
  
As the last rays of the sun sets a figure dressed in all black steps out from a hidden spot along the shore near the lighthouse.  She looks around before walking off the beach and starts to follow the dirt that goes inland.  
  
She continues walking until she reaches a paved and not well maintained road.  The sound of an approaching vehicle has her stepping across the road and concealing herself in the over growth.  She observes the innocent looking vehicle that has a state park emblem on the side come to a stop.    
  
She watches as two men exit the vehicle.  Looking closer, she can easily see the extra communications devices that are not standard equipment that the men are wearing.  As well as the weapons they are carrying under their park ranger uniforms.  
  
The passenger walks over to where the dirt road ends at the edge of the road and keys his mic, "Activate checkpoint 17."  A red beam flashes and then disappears from sight.  The two men re-enter the vehicle and once it moves on, she begins walking along the road in the same direction as the vehicle.  
  
✶✶✶  
  
Harold is working on a computer when Reese enters the subway station.  
  
"Have you given any thought of moving out of here."  
  
Harold glances at Reese, "I've grown quite fond of this place.  It is also a reminder not to let our defenses down."  
  
"And you think the library did that?"  
  
"We assumed that we were safe and well hidden.  But the evidence proves that we were neither."  
  
Reese nods, "Anything on our friend at the demolition site?"  
  
"No.  Whoever it was knew exactly how to avoid all of the security cameras."  
  
"Anything from our government friend?"  
  
"The servers have apparently been destroyed.  And confirmation that it indeed was Martine's body that was recovered from the building."  
  
"I'm sure Root and Shaw will be relieved to know that.  Have you…"  
  
"No.  I have not informed them.  I'm sure when The Machine is ready, Root will be contacted."  
  
"Do we know where they are?"  
  
"No.  Apparently The Machine arranged everything."  
  
"Interesting.  Anything new on Decima or Greer?"  
  
Harold starts to say something, then turns to his computer, "A shipment of servers are scheduled to be shipped overseas in two days."  
  
"How many?"  
  
"Twenty according to the manifest."  
  
"Destination?"  
  
"Ordos, China."  
  
"Seems rather odd that servers are being shipped overseas when Samaritan is in the States."  
  
"I agree Mr. Reese."  
  
"I think a trip to the port is required."  
  
"Pier 7 at the Red Hook container terminal.  The ship is the Exquemelin and is registered out of South Africa.  I've sent the container numbers to your phone.  And,"  turns to Reese, "Be careful Mr. Reese."  
  
"Of course Harold."  
  
Reese exits the subway station.  
  
Harold watches Reese exit before picking up his cell.  He hesitates and then sets it back down.   He begins typing, calling up all of the security feeds over the past week for the Red Hook pier.  
  
✶✶✶  
  
The female figure walks past the posted sign that warns the area is closed to the public.  She chuckles softly at the absurdity that warning signs were needed for a state park.  She continues walking until she hears an approaching vehicle and stops in the middle of the road.  
  
Her hands are clasped behind her back when the headlights catch her in their beam.  She keeps her head bowed as she awaits for the vehicle to come to a stop.  A smirk is unseen by the two armed guards as they exit the vehicle and approach her.  Each man has a weapon in their hand, aimed at her.  
  
"You're trespassing."  
  
She lifts her head, the confusion evident in her voice, "Am I?  I thought this was a state park?"  
  
The two men step closer, but take a few steps away from each other as a precaution.  
  
"Why are you here?"  
  
She tilts her head as if in thought, "Well I enjoy hiking and the ocean.  And this park has both."  
  
The guard to the right of her activates his mic.  "This is Bravo Charlie one.  We have a trespasser."  He nods his head from the commands that are coming through his ear piece.  
  
"You're going to have to come with us."  
  
"Why?"  
  
One of the armed guards steps closer to her, "That is none of your concern."  
  
"Really?  I think I have the right to know why I'm being arrested."  
  
"On your knees.  Hands on your head."  
  
The smile that appears doesn't reach her eyes.  "No.  You should get on your knees."  
  
The gall of the woman standing casually in front of them has both laughing.   The first guard takes a step forward, "And why would we do that?"  
  
She takes a deep breath, "I was hoping you would be cooperative but I guess we'll have to do this the hard way."  
  
"And what would that be?"  
  
"This."  Before either of the men could move, the woman is moving towards the guard on her right.  She kicks him in the knee, spins around putting him between her and the other guard.  She grabs him from behind and bends him backward just enough to keep him off balance and unable to counter her attack.  He collapses backwards against her when gunshots from the other guard slam into him.  
  
She braces herself, keeping the dead guard between her and the other guard.  She shifts just enough to get a better grip before lifting slightly and suddenly charges forward.  Three quick steps and she launches the dead guard forward and into the other guard.    
  
Trying to avoid the dead body, the second guard shifts opening himself to an immediate attack from the woman.  Three quick blows and he is knocked unconscious.  
  
The woman retrieves the communication device from one of the guards and keys the mic.    
  
"Blackwood. Встретимся в радиолокационной станции немедленно. Приходите в одиночку. 

Blackwood.  Встретимся в радиолокационной станции немедленно. Приходите в одиночку."  
  
She drops the communication device on the ground and grounds her heel into it.  She takes the weapons and extra clips off of the two guards before handcuffing the unconscious guard to the dead guard.  Ignoring the vehicle, she resumes walking down the road.  
  
✶✶✶  
  
A security officer enters the main computer room where Greer is overseeing the rebuilding of the server farm that Samaritan requires before coming back on line.  
  
"Sir, we have a problem.  We've lost contact with Bravo Charlie one and two."  
  
Greer turns to the man, "And?"  
  
"They had discovered a trespasser and then we received this."  The guard steps to a computer and types in a code.  Through the speakers comes a female voice saying,  Blackwood. Встретимся в радиолокационной станции немедленно. Приходите в одиночку.  Blackwood.  Встретимся в радиолокационной станции немедленно. Приходите в одиночку.  
( Blackwood.  Meet me at the radar facility immediately.  Come alone. ) *  
  
"We've translated it…."  
  
"I know exactly what it means.  Have a car ready for me."  
  
"Sir?  We can have…"  
  
"No.  Now go."  
  
"Yes, sir."  The officer exits the room leaving a thoughtful Greer behind.  
  
✶✶✶  
  
Reese enters an office and begins looking through the paperwork on the desk.   He picks up a manifest and flips through the pages.  He taps his earpiece, "Finch, I'm at the pier."  
  
"Have you found the containers?"  
  
"No, but it seems we're not the only ones that are interested in them."  
  
"Who Mr. Reese?"  
  
"A John Patrick of the New York Park Service placed an indefinite hold on them."  
  
Finch begins typing into John Patrick's name into the computer in association with the New York Park Service.  "And his reason?"  
  
"Suspicion of transportation of an endangered species."  
  
"Is the hold still in place?"    
  
Reese looks through the paperwork.  "Yes."  
  
On the monitor is the information on his search.  "Mr. Reese, John Patrick was an employee with New York Park Service.  
  
"Was?"  
  
"Yes, he retired five years ago and died two years ago."  
  
"Seems our friends have been here."  
  
"Which means they've opened the containers.  Mr. Reese, you need to find those containers and open them."  
  
"On it Finch."  
  
The door to the office opens and the foreman enters the room.  "Who are you?"  
  
Reese takes out his badge, "Det. Riley.  NYPD"  
  
"What do you want?"  
  
"I'm looking into a homicide."  
  
"So?"  
  
"Seems the killer stole the identity of my victim.  A John Patrick that worked for the New York Park Service.  We've tracked him here."  
  
The foreman rolls his eyes, "That jerk.  He came in waving paperwork and ordered us to place two containers in quarantine until he could confirm their contents."  
  
"And you complied?"  
  
The foreman shrugged, "His paperwork looked okay."  
  
"Then you won't mind showing me the same containers."  
  
"They're still in quarantine.  They haven't been cleared."  
  
Reese starts for the door.  He turns to the foreman, "Shall we?"  The foreman exits the room followed by Reese.  
  
"Be careful Mr. Reese."  
  
"Understood Harold."  
  
✶✶✶  
  
From outside of the radar facility the woman observes two members of Greer's security quietly approaching the building.  If they could have seen her, they would have run from the ferocious smile that was slowly appearing.  
  
She pulls further into the shadows as Greer drives through the open gate at the entrance.  She watches as he parks his vehicle, exits it and looks around before entering the building.  
  
A sound to her left has her leaning into a tree as one of Greer's security detail moves toward her.  As soon as he is in front of her, she moves quickly and before he realizes she is there, she wraps her arms around his neck and snaps him backward until his neck breaks.  She lowers him to the ground making as little noise as possible.  "His death is on you Greer.  Now for his friend."  
  
As she starts to move, she stops when there is movement from the interior of Greer's vehicle.  She watches as two camouflaged figures emerge and enter the building.  "Time for more fun."  
  
She moves toward the location of the other security guard and ruefully smiles at how badly trained the guards are.  To say she was disappointed was an understatement.  She had expected far more.  
  
Pausing less than ten feet from the other guard, she observes him.  He is watching everything in front of him but has failed to account for the area behind him.  Any well trained operative would be fully aware of their surroundings and that included everything above them as well.  
  
Deciding to have some fun, she quietly approaches the guard, leans forward and whispers, "Is this where you bring all of your dates?"  The guard stiffens, spins and tries to bring his silenced weapon to bear.  To his surprise the weapon is easily knocked out of his hands.  He mutters, "Bitch," as he pulls a knife and takes a combat attack stance.  
  
Now if he could have seen her eyes, he would have been confused by the amusement that was reflected in them.  Instead all he heard was a soft, questioning, "Me?"  Thrown off by the unexpected question, he hesitates on attacking.  This hesitation would cost him his life as the next thing he heard was a cold and utterly emotionless, "You have no idea."  
  
He barely had time to raise his left arm to deflect her attack.  Then fists, knees and kicks were getting through every defense he could muster and hitting him with ease.  He feels his hand holding the knife, captured, turned and halted temporarily.  The halt was just long enough for him to realize that he had never been a challenge to this woman.  
  
The woman whispers, "You're right,"  Before he can say anything, the knife is thrust into his neck.  The last thing he hears is her finishing her sentence, "I am a bitch."  
  
She stands, leaving the knife sticking out of the dead guard's neck.  Not bothering to wipe away any of the blood that is splattered on her face, she removes, from her waistband, one of the pistols she had taken from her earlier altercation with the other guards and begins walking towards the building that Greer had entered.  
  
✶✶✶  
  
Reese and the foreman are standing out side of the quarantine building.  There are doors at either end.  "Who has access to this building?"  
  
The foreman rubs his head, "The only time this door opens is when a container is quarantined.  None of my men come near this building until we're informed the container is cleared."  
  
"So Patrick wouldn't have been observed inspecting the containers?"  
  
"No.  Nor his men."  
  
"His men?"  
  
"Yeah.  When I came to work one morning, one of the trucks that was leaving, almost hit me.  I caught a glimpse of at least two other trucks in the quarantine building before the door was shut."  
  
"Did you check it out?"  
  
"I tried to and was meant by armed guards telling me the building was off limits.  Now is there anything else.  I need to get back to work."  
  
"No, you've been very helpful."  
  
The foreman walks off leaving Reese.  "Harold did you get that?"  
  
"Yes, Mr. Reese.  I am getting all of the security footage from around the terminal."  Harold watches the footage.  He zooms in on one of the drivers, "Well this is interesting."  On the monitor is a clear picture of the logo on the drivers shirt that says MID ACE.  
  
"Find something Harold?"  
  
"Seems our friends from the demolition site were at the pier.  One of the drivers was wearing a MID ACE shirt."  
  
Reese checks the door and to his surprise it opens.  "Seems our friends left in a hurry.  They didn't lock the door."  
  
"Be careful Mr. Reese."  
  
Reese enters the building, his gun at the ready.  
  
✶✶✶  
  
The soft breeze from the ocean causes the flames in the fire pit to flicker and reflect off of the grasses that are growing out of the sand dune.  Empty food and beverage containers litter the surrounding ground.  A small metal cooking tray, with the remnants of food, stands ready to be used again.  
  
Ensconced in the outdoor sleeping area and tucked under a warm quilt lay Root and Shaw, who were so intertwined that they appeared as one.  Only the slight movement of the quilt gave any indication that they were awake.  
  
A soft, "How's your appetite?" brings a snort followed by an amused, "Which one?"  
  
"Either."  
  
"Hmmm.  The steaks were perfect.  Though the fried potatoes were a little over cooked."  
  
Root smacks Shaw in her side, "Well if you hadn't been so distracting."  
  
"Me?"  
  
"Yes, you."  
  
"Well I aim to please."  
  
Root lifts her head and waits for Sameen to meet her heated gaze.  Her voice is soft and yet demanding, "Prove it."  The words have barely left her mouth before she is spun in the bed and is now looking up into the darkening gaze of her lover.  
  
"Gladly."  Sameen lifts Root's arms and places them next to her head.  "Don't move them."  
  
The gleam in her eyes is all Sameen needs to know before she grabs both arms and holds them with one hand.  "I said don't move them."  
  
"And how are you going to stop me?"  Root is distracted by the crush of Sameen's lips on hers.  When the kiss ends, she tries to move her arms and finds herself tied to the frame of the bed with one of their shirts.  She tests the limit of the ties before relaxing and pouting, "All you had to do was ask."  
  
"I did."  She leans closer until her lips are ghosting against Root's but rather than completing the kiss those teasing lips come to rest against her ear.   A whispered,  "I believe you asked me to prove something, and that's what I'm going to do."  
  
Before Root can respond her body arches when simultaneously both of her breasts are roughly kneaded and teeth sink into the corded muscles where her neck and shoulder meet.  
  
She loses herself in the contrasting sensations of rough and gentle touches that are creating a glorious feeling of havoc in her body.  This was the perfect blend and one she wanted  to experience, repeatedly.  
  
Sameen was desperately trying not to lose herself in the sensations of Root's soft body rising and falling against her own.  She tempered her feelings, something she never imagined herself ever having to do, to focus entirely on Root's.  And well if she got pleasure from driving Root over the edge, so much the better.  
  
Her fingers continued to knead breasts and occasionally tweaking the turgid flesh as she kissed, nipped and scraped her teeth everywhere her hands weren't.  She needed to taste the glistening flesh as much as she needed to breath, so she did.  
  
Unwilling, to break free, Root uses her feet to pull the quilt away so that she can see as well as feel what Sameen is doing to her.  She shifts just enough so that she can rest her head on her bound hands giving her the view she needs.  The sight of, combined with the feeling of, brunette hair on her oversensitive skin creates a mix of feelings so intense, she couldn't keep her eyes open, though she tried.  She fell willingly into the swirling eddy of ecstasy that was being created by Sameen's ministrations.  
  
Sameen rests her head on Root's heaving stomach as they both recover.  She can feel the occasional twitch of the desirable body beneath her.  The need to look into the eyes of her other half has her shifting upward.  
  
She waits for Root's eyes to open and what she sees has her taking a deep breath.  She can see the the need, the desire that has always been evident, especially lately.  But it is the other emotion that Sameen had never expected to see aimed at her.  It was the same look her parents had for each other.  It was love that was staring back.  
  
"Root?"  
  
A breathy, "Sameen?" is the only warning Sameen gets before Root has her hands free and their positions are reversed.  Her hands are tied to the bed frame and a hotly whispered, "My turn," sends arousal flooding through Sameen as she willingly lets Root bring her to ecstasy.  
  
✶✶✶  
  
The woman opens the door into the abandoned radar facility and enters.  "Hello Mr. Greer.  Oleg Luski sends his regards."  As the door closes, four gunshots are heard.  
  
  
tbc


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4  
  
Gun drawn, Reese enters the darken quarantine building.  He turns on the lights and finds the building empty except for the two shipping containers.  He walks over to one of the containers and looks at the customs seal that appears to be intact but a gentle tug has the seal breaking and falling to the ground.  He taps his earpiece, "Harold, the custom seals are fake."  
  
"And the contents?"  
  
Reese lifts the locking arm on the door of the container.  The creaking of the hinges echoes in the vast building as he swings the door open revealing empty space. "The servers are gone.  Checking the other one."  The other container is also found to be empty.  
  
"It's also empty."  
  
"As to be expected.  The good news is, I was able to track the truck."  
  
"To where?"  
  
Harold is typing on the computer.  "To a storage facility that appears to be part of the Park Service near Sag Harbor, Long Island."  
  
"Appears to be part of the Park Service?"  
  
An info box appears on the screen detailing the recent history of the storage facility. "Superficially the Park Service had a contract to use the facility.  But two months ago the facility in question was in receivership until it was bought by Green Arum,Inc."  
  
"Green Arum?"  
  
A picture of the Green Arum plant appears on the screen.  "It is an invasive plant which seems rather symbolic of Samaritan's attempt to encroach on society's freedom."  
  
"I doubt they were using the facility to simply store the servers."  
  
"I agree.  It would give them the perfect place to transfer the servers without any witnesses.  
  
"A local delivery truck would be the ideal cover to move the servers."  
  
"Indeed it would.  I've sent the coordinates to your phone."  
  
"I guess I'm on my way to Sag Harbor."  
  
✶✶✶  
  
The woman stands in front of the door, her gun aimed at Greer.  
  
Greer takes note of the blood splattered on the woman's face as well as the ease she handles her weapon.  The way she had efficiently dispatched the two guards that had been hidden in the room with him, conveyed to him that she was highly trained.  But he had persuaded others and he was confident that he could sway her allegiance.  "It seems, my dear, that you have me at the disadvantage."  
  
"Oleg Luski.  Does that jog your memory?"  
  
Only a slight quirk of his lips is the only clue to his true feelings, "He was…a colleague."  
  
A dismissive chuckle erupts from the woman, "A colleague?  Is that what he was?"  
  
Greer shrugs his shoulders, "We had the same agenda, albeit for different sides."  
  
The woman's anger rushes out.  "You shot him!"  
  
He nods in agreement.  "I did indeed.  But he, from all accounts, survived."  He watches as she quickly regains control of her emotions.  
  
The anger was still evident in her voice but under control.  "He was sent to Siberia for his failure."  
  
"And you're here to avenge a shooting that happened over forty years ago?"  
  
He doesn't react when she without warning fires her weapon.  The bullet is close enough that not only does he feel the air that is displaced by its trajectory, it singes the hairs on that side of his head.  
  
Greer touches the side of his head, "So you're not here to kill me?"  
  
The woman laughs, "Oh have no doubt that I will be killing you, but just not right at this moment."  
  
Greer quirks an eyebrow at her.  "Well you've piqued my curiosity for why you're truly here?  Besides killing me of course."  
  
"You have someone that I want?"  
  
"I see."  Greer scrutinizes her, "And who would that be?"  
  
She removes a grainy picture from a pocket and holds it up for Greer to study.  "I'm looking for this butcher."  
  
Greer glances at the picture then back to the woman. "I've heard her called a great many things but never a butcher.  Unfortunately she is not currently enjoying the benefits of my hospitality."  
  
The woman snarls, "Then I've wasted my time."  She raises her gun, but pauses when Greer holds up his hand, "But if you agree to help me, I'll use the vast resources that I have at my disposal to help you find her."  
  
"And when I do find her?"  
  
"That's for you to decide."  
  
She scrutinizes Greer, "Why should I trust you?"  
  
Greer had learned that telling the truth when it's least expected often throws your opponent off their game.  "You shouldn't."  
  
She studies Greer remembering every warning Oleg had ingrained in her.  "What do you get out of it?"  
  
Greer simply smiles before answering. "The removal of an irritating complication.  Now do we have an agreement?"  
  
She steps closer to Greer until she is looking directly into his eyes, "Yes.  But if I think for one moment that you're double crossing me, I will put a bullet in you exactly where Oleg was shot.  And there will be no timely call to a hospital.  Do you understand?"  
  
He nods his head in understanding.  "I would expect nothing less.  Now what can I call you?"  
  
"Bodil."  
  
"Interesting.  I believe that is old Norse and means battle for revenge.  If I may ask, what exactly did…"  
  
Her voice comes out as a snarl cutting off Greer, "That," her eyes flare in anger, "Is between her and me."  
  
"Understood."  He walks around Bodil to the door.  "Shall we?"  
  
As he walks out the door a slight twinkle appears in his eyes at the sequence of events that has lead to Martine's replacement falling into his lap.  And when he has squeezed out of Bodil every ounce of usefulness, he will, if he can't switch her allegiance, have her replaced.  
  
Bodil knows she has made a deal with the devil, but she had no choice if she was to achieve her primary objective and then, her eyes narrow in anger,…then she would keep her promise to Oleg to make Greer suffer.  
  
Greer would use her, and that was fine with her for she would also be using him.  Her smile is calculating and cold as she follows Greer out of the door.  
  
✶✶✶  
  
A local delivery truck backs through the open door of a dilapidated building.  The door closes once the truck is completely inside.  
  
There is no noise in the loading bay except the footsteps of a technician, wearing a white lab coat, as he approaches the rear of the truck and opens it.  Inside are five  wrapped and securely strapped down servers sitting on pallets.  
  
The sliding of nylon along metal is the only noise in the truck as the technician unstraps a server.  The muted engine of a forklift has the technician turning and guiding the forklift forward into the rear of the truck.  A soft hiss of the forks lowering and then sliding forward until they are positioned correctly under the pallet.  As the pallet is lifted, the forklift backs out quietly, as it's reverse horn has been disconnected, and disappears down a hallway.  
  
The technician readies the next server to be moved and continues until all five servers have been removed from the truck and the rear door is closed.  Once the truck is empty, the technician follows the forklift down the hallway as the delivery truck exits the building.  
  
The minor sounds that the moving of the servers created have dissipated leaving the interior of the dilapidated building quiet.  The only indication that anyone has been there is the faint odor of diesel fumes that are rapidly evaporating.  
  
✶✶✶  
  
Greer and Bodil enter the server room.  She ignores the odd looks she is garnering from the various people scouring around the vast room where the servers are being installed and connected to the other servers in the room.  
  
A technician, his head down as he studies information on a tablet approaches Greer and Bodil.  He lifts his head, "Sir, we…" he stops talking and takes a partial step back when he makes eye contact with the blood splattered features of Bodil.  
  
Bodil steps forward, "Do we have a problem?"  The technician nods his head negatively, "No, ma'am."  
  
Greer is amused by the ease of Bodil's intimidation of the technician.  But there is work to do.  "Where are we on the server installations?"  
  
The technician swallows heavily as he tears his eyes away from Bodil.  "We…we just received five more servers and they are being installed."  
  
"Good.  The other fifteen will be arriving later this week."  
  
"Sir, if we could get them all in one shipment, we could…."  
  
"No."  
  
"But Sir?"  
  
Bodil steps toward the technician, waiting for his fearful eyes to track to her.  "He said no."   
  
The technician takes a step back, looks to Greer and nods his head before spinning on his heel and almost runs back towards the servers and the other technicians.  
  
A soft chuckle is the only sign of amusement from Greer as he observes the interactions  between the technician and Bodil.  "This is going to be a mutually beneficial agreement Bodil.  Now let's get you situated and we can discuss the steps we need to take to find her."  
  
Greer walks away without expecting an answer and knows she will be following him without question.  He will need to be careful in his dealings with Bodil.  Allowing her to continue her search but ensuring that she not be successful until the moment that is most beneficial to him and Samaritan.  Yes, a most interesting time was indeed ahead.  
  
✶✶✶  
  
Root slowly adds kindling as she stirs the barely glowing embers in the fire pit.   As the fire begins to flare back to life, she carefully stacks more wood until she's satisfied with the results.    
  
A slight breeze from the ocean, despite the heat from the fire, has her rubbing her arms as a shiver races through her.  The fire was creating a small sphere of warmth but there was a better, and much more enjoyable, source of intense heat at hand.  As she starts to turn towards the bed, she freezes in absolute shock.  A sound that she hadn't heard in almost three weeks, and truthfully wasn't sure she would ever hear again, was making it's presence known.  To say Root was beyond ecstatic with the knowledge that SHE had returned would have been one of the great understatements of the century.    
  
As Root listens to HER, she jumps slightly when a pair of arms slid around her waist.  She relaxes as she is pulled against Sameen's warm body.  A voice, husky with sleep, sends a different kind of shiver through her.  "SHE's returned?"  
  
"Yes.  But…" Anything else she was going to say is cut off when she is spun around and soft lips connect with hers.  
  
Sameen ends the kiss and pulls back just enough, "Does SHE need us tonight?"  
  
Root tilts her head to one side, listening to HER, "No."  
  
"Then we'll talk to HER later tomorrow."  
  
Root nods her head, "SHE says fine."  Then her voice turns coy and teasing,  "And we have plans that require our immediate attention between now and then?"  
  
"Yep."  
  
"Care to elaborate?"  
  
Sameen smirks and leans closer until her lips are brushing against Root's ear, "I could elaborate or…"  Her hands slid unimpeded over soft skin that seemed to grow hotter everywhere she touched.  She grasped two perfect breasts, her breath hitching when she feels the soft flesh harden with desire.  
  
Sameen takes a partial step back but her hands continue to slide over toned muscles and then stops at Root's hips.  Her thumbs teasingly caress sensitive skin, "…I could just demonstrate."  
  
A growled, "How about both?" is all Sameen hears before she is propelled backwards onto the bed with an aroused Root landing on top of her.  "Works for me."  
  
Their coming together were the odd combinations of rough and gentle, of desperation and making love, of giving and taking and all happening at the same time.  Within both had been banked embers of feelings and emotions that simply needed the right tender to erupt into existence.  These feelings were worth fighting for, worth defending, it made them weaker and yet stronger at the same time.  
  
Tomorrow the idyllic bubble they had been living in would be ending.  SHE was back and that meant that there was the possibility that Samaritan had also returned.  But for now, it was simply the time for them to deepen their connection.  
  
  
tbc


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bold letters is The Machine talking and italicized is Root.

Chapter 5  
  
Bodil enters the server room to find Greer overseeing the work of the technicians.  She walks over to him.  
  
"Bodil."  
  
"Greer.  Have you information on her?"  
  
He's amused by her straightforwardness, "Unfortunately, no."  He holds up his hand to stop her moving towards him.  "But I do know where one of her colleagues is."  
  
This is part of the game and she knows how to play it.  "Where?"  
  
Greer nods to a nearby technician who taps on a keyboard and a picture of Fusco appears on a monitor.  "This is Detective Fusco of the NYPD."  
  
Bodil studies the picture.  
  
"What I would like is for you to follow him."  
  
She glances at Greer.  "Why?"  
  
"Information is a valuable commodity.  He is in contact with," the monitor split screens with Reese on one side and Finch on the other, "these men."  
  
Bodil taps Reese's picture, "I've seen him."  
  
"Where?"  
  
Bodil ignores Greer as she continues to study the monitor.  "The Detective won't be much of a challenge."  
  
Greer chuckles, "Don't underestimate him.  Appearances can be deceiving especially when dealing with this Detective."  
  
Bodil sits next to the suddenly nervous technician.  "Show me everything you have on these two men, Detective Fusco and anyone associated with them."  
  
The technician looks briefly to Greer who nods his head in approval.  He retrieves the requested files and is pushed away from the monitor by Bodil, who is intently reading everything.  
  
Greer removes a phone from his pocket and sets it on the desk next to Bodil, who briefly glances at it.  "When you're finished, come and find me."  She simply nods before resuming her reading.  
  
By all outward appearances Bodil seems to be totally absorbed in reading but she is completely aware of everyone and everything that is happening around her.  She knows Greer is studying her and had, if he was as capable as Oleg said he was, already set in motion an in-depth background search.  What he would find would be carefully crafted partial truths and outright lies that would mean very little.  So let him play his games, let him underestimate her but she would not fall into the same trap.  Oleg had taught her well.  
  
✶✶✶  
  
Root's head rests on the strong, yet so soft, gently breathing body beneath her.  The soothing heartbeat had come to mean far more than she had ever expected.  And last night proved that.  She should have been ecstatic and overjoyed at the knowledge that SHE had returned, that SHE had survived the encounter with Samaritan and she was.  But the feelings that HER returning, had created were warring….  
  
"Go and talk to HER."  
  
She lifts her head to find brown eyes that reflect understanding and a promise.  "And if I don't want to?"  
  
Sameen snorts, "I know what you're afraid of."  She grasps Root's chin and keeps her from turning away.  "Don't be."  She leans forward until their lips are touching in the softest of kisses.  Not letting the feelings intensify, Sameen reluctantly pulls away and waits for Root's eyes to meet hers, "Now go and have the conversation you should have had last night."  
  
Quietly Root nods in agreement and slides out of the bed.  As she pulls on clothes, she glances at Sameen who is also getting dressed.  Eyes meet and a silent conversation takes place before Root starts to exit the room.  She spins and before Sameen can move, she is being kissed like her life depended on the connection.  The emotions conveyed in the kiss are deep, passionate and with a promise to return.  Root ends the kiss, turns and exits the room without glancing back.  
  
Sameen lets out a deep breath as she walks over to the doorway and watches Root walk down the path towards the ocean.  Her gait an odd combination of hesitation and determination.  She glances up at the security camera on the edge of the roof and waits for the red light to stop blinking.  In a voice reminiscent of the uncaring ISA agent she had once been, the simple,  "Don't hurt her," carries a far greater meaning than those three words would normally insinuate.  If Root is hurt by HER then Samaritan will be the least of HER worries.  The red light blinks twice in understanding.  
  
Reluctantly Sameen wanders towards the kitchen to make a light meal even though everything in her is yelling at her to go, no to sprint, to Root's side.  To hold her, to simply be there for her but she also knows that this is a conversation that Root needs to have alone with HER.  So Sameen will wait as long as needed.  
  
Her cell phone chirps for only the fourth time since they had been at the bungalow, alerting her to an incoming message.  She opens the message and quirks an eyebrow at the three words…delivery…front…gate.  Every other message had been from the grocer stating they were at the front gate.  
  
Only Finch and maybe Reese knew where they were and neither would have sent such a short message.  So that meant SHE had had something delivered.  And if it was HER, then it meant one of two things, either their stay was going to be extended or it was about to end.  
  
Surprisingly her feelings toward extending their stay or rejoining the fight against Samaritan, Greer and their thugs, minus Martine of course, were ambivalent.  
  
A very small part of her wanted to stay hidden away.  But she was a pragmatist and knew how unrealistic that idea truly was.  Sooner or later the outside world would intrude.  And this message was proof that the intrusion was coming far sooner than she or even Root had expected or even wanted.  
  
She briefly looks in the direction of the ocean, her eyes thoughtful, before turning and walking out the front door to find out what had been delivered.  She would simply grab the packages and return to the bungalow to be close, incase Root needed her.  
  
✶✶✶  
  
Reese sits in a car a block from the Green Arum storage facility in Sag Harbor.  He taps his ear piece.  "Finch I'm at the storage facility."  
  
"As you surmised Mr. Reese, a local delivery truck was caught on a security camera exiting the storage facility two hours after the counterfeit Park Service trucks entered."  
  
"Anything else?"  He uses a camera to continue to study the building and the one across the street from it.  
  
"I was able to determine from the size of the delivery truck that there could only have been, at the most, five servers loaded."  
  
"That means another delivery."  
  
"Indeed it does."  
  
Reese zooms in on the apparently unused building across from the storage facility.  The locks on the door seem out of place.  "Sometimes its better to be lucky than good."  
  
"I would rather not have to count on luck Mr. Reese.  Especially when we are dealing with Samaritan."  
  
"Understood.  Anything on the buildings around the storage facility?"  
  
"Most have stood vacant for a number of years with a few slated for demolition."  
  
"The demolition company wouldn't happen to be Mid Ace?"  
  
"Unfortunately not.  It is a local company called Ingame."  
  
"Anything to connect them with Samaritan?"  
  
"At the moment, no.  Do you see something Mr. Reese?"  
  
"It's what I don't see."  
  
"Which is?"  
  
Reese exits his car, "No demolition signs.  In fact no signs of any kind."  
  
"That does seem odd.  I've sent the last known layout of the buildings that are around the facility."  
  
"Good."  
  
Reese walks over to a door that has what looks like an old lock but it doesn't have the same wear as the surrounding building.  It's been made to look old.  "Somebody wants to hide something."  
  
"Mr. Reese, you found something."  
  
Reese picks the lock, draws his weapon before slowly pushing the door open.  "Not sure."  He enters the building, closing the door behind him.  
  
As the door closes, a camera discreetly hidden high up in a corner, blinks on.  
  
✶✶✶  
  
On a video monitor appears Reese moving through the seemingly abandoned building.  A guard reaches for a phone and dials a number.  He waits for someone to answer and then says, "Sir, we're monitoring an intruder.  What do you want us to do?"  He listens, "Yes sir."  He ends the call and simply watches the monitors as Reese continues to investigate the building.  
  
✶✶✶  
  
Root stands near the water, contemplating where to start this conversation with HER.  "Was this all part of your plan?"  She tilts her head to one side waiting to hear a response and gnashes her teeth at what she hears.  "Explain."  
  
She wraps her arms around herself as she listens to HER explanation and shakes her head.  "No, I don't accept that.  You could have let me know that you had survived instead you…"  Her toes dig into the soft sand as if she was preparing to flee but a glance over her shoulder at the bungalow has her relaxing her stance.  
  
✶✶✶  
  
Shaw sets the two packages on the table when to her surprise she hears Root and the disembodied voice she knows as The Machine coming through the speaker of her phone.  
  
_"Was Sameen's capture part of your plan to bring down Samaritan?"_  
  
**_"Yes."_**  
  
_"You knew Greer would try and turn her?"_  
  
_" **Yes, but knew he would fail."**_  
  
_"How could you be sure?"_  
  
**_"Her will is stronger."_**  
  
_"He could have killed her."_  
  
**_"Yes, but doubtful."_**  
  
_"But you couldn't be sure?"_  
  
**_"The percentages were acceptable."_**  
  
_"Acceptable?"_   Sameen can feel the harshness of Root's laugh through the phone.   _"How did you get Shaw to agree to it?"_    Sameen knew what SHE was about to say and could only hope that Root would understand the choice she had made and why it had to be made.  
  
**_"Asset helped to devise plan once her cover identity had been compromised."_**  
  
_"She did what?"_  
  
Sameen dropped her head at the disbelief and anger that exploded through the phones speaker when those three little words were said by Root.  She had wanted to tell Root about the plan but The Machine had stressed the need for secrecy.  That only Shaw and The Machine could be aware of the plan for it to have any chance at succeeding.  
  
And once she had been rescued from the warehouse, there had been very little time for meaningful conversations.  All of their time and resources, other than those directed toward Shaw's recovery, had been channeled towards infecting Samaritan with the distraction virus.  
  
Part of her had hoped this was a conversation that she would never have to have with Root but deep down she knew it was as inevitable as the sun rising in the East.  And now that time was here.  
  
**_"Plan devised to save you."_**  
  
_"You mean to save you?"_  
  
**_"No.  To save admin Root."_**  
  
_"I don't understand?"_  
  
**_"Admin's number came up.  Only viable option to save admin was Asset Shaw's apparent death."_**  
  
Sameen could feel Root's confusion in the silence that was coming through the phone.  
  
**_"Overconfidence would lower Samaritan's defenses."_**  
  
_"And that's why I had to appear to go rogue, to make Samaritan even more overconfident."_  
  
**_"Yes."_**  
  
Sameen could feel the hurt in Root's voice when she asks, _"Why didn't you tell me?"_  
  
**_"Admin had to appear desperate until Asset Shaw's existence confirmed."_**  
  
_"Was this all part of your plan?"_  
  
**_"No.  Options within asset's plan."_**  
  
Sameen feels the urge to run from the upcoming confrontation that she knew was inevitable.  But the new Sameen refuses to capitulate to the old Shaw that, a) would never have let herself be in this emotional of a situation, and b) would have already been fleeing before the situation had gotten so emotional.  
  
_"And was her not telling me you had survived also part of the plan?"_  
  
**_"Asset Shaw unaware until last night."_**  
  
Sameen can imagine the look of anger transforming into disbelief on Root's face.  
  
_"She didn't know?"_  
  
**_"No."_**  
  
Sameen can see Root's mind working frantically trying to comprehend everything that she has just learned.  What she wasn't expecting was the next question from Root.  
  
_"Did you arrange the bungalow?"_  
  
Sameen perks up as she awaits the answer.  She had assumed that it was Finch that had made all the arrangements.  Never once did it ever cross her mind that the bungalow was possibly The Machine's doing.  
  
**_"Yes."_**  
  
_"Why?_  
  
**_"Assets needed time to heal…Together."_**  
  
_"Why come forward now?"_  
  
Even Sameen was wondering why The Machine had decided that it was the right time to make her presence known.  
  
**_"It was time for admin and asset to know."_**  
  
Sameen's phone unexpectedly turns off.  She starts toward the beach and stops.  She's torn between wanting Root to know she's heard everything and fearful at the anger the other woman is sure to direct at her.  An anger she rightfully deserves.  
  
✶✶✶  
  
Root stares at the vastness of the ocean thinking about everything.  She had every right to feel angry and yet she also didn't have that right.  She had done the same to Sameen, with HER help.  Perhaps her anger was from the fact that this plan was designed not to save Sameen, or Finch, not Reese or even Fusco but her.  
  
She bends down, scooping up a handful of sand and lets it run through her fingers.  She had been the sand for so many years, fluid, unstoppable and uncaring.  And now, now she cared and perhaps that's why HER revelations hurt so much.  
  
The old Root would have filed away this adventure and simply moved on to the next job.  This new Root could do neither.  She had been changing from the moment she had learned about HER.  Part of her, the part that helped her deal with Hannah's disappearance, fought this change, fought this influx of feelings, fought the fissure that was being created.  Why?  It was really very simple.  This would be a new feeling version of Root and the old version, that cared about nothing but the next job, would no longer be needed.  
  
And yet there was a part of her that had been yearning for something to care about, someone to care about and to be cared about.  Everything she didn't have growing up and didn't have a chance at until recently.  
  
She had a number of options, but in reality she only had two viable ones.  One was to walk away from everything and everyone.  To remove her cochlear implant, to become simply another human lost in the sea of humanity, to return to the Root of old.  This was the option her head wanted, pleaded for, begged for.  
  
But the second is what her heart yearned for.  To feel, to care, to be cared about, to risk loving and being loved in returned, to trust and be trusted.  And this is why HER revelations on Shaw's planning had hurt so much.  
  
She drew four arrows in the sand.  Two were pointing in opposite directions down the beach, one was pointing towards the ocean and one was pointing towards the bungalow.  These were her options.  
  
She wipes away the arrow pointing at the ocean because that meant giving up and admitting defeat.  And Root was a great many things, but giving up because it was the easiest option, that was not her and it never would be.  
  
She looks down the beach in both directions.  She can hear all of the perfectly valid reasons why going in either direction is her best option.  That she could return to her old ways and not worry about anything or anyone ever again.  Her head was reminding her of how much pain has been inflicted on her, body and psyche, since she had become involved with HER.  That by choosing one of these directions, all of this pain would end.  And yet that also meant giving up.  
  
But her head was losing the battle to her heart.  She could never forget her newly found feelings, especially those toward Sameen.  There would be pain but the benefits far outweighed any pain she had to endure.  
  
She quickly wipes away the two arrows pointing down the beach and stares at the remaining arrow.  Part of her knew that this had truly been her only option.  Pandora's box had been opened and no matter what, the old Root, like the old Shaw, would never be able to force those feelings back into their respective boxes.  
  
Without warning, she erupts into laughter at the realization that Sameen had created a plan so ingenious that it rivaled one of her own.  She had been out Rooted by, of all people, Sameen Shaw.  
  
As the tide rolls in, she turns and walks off the beach.  The water is washing away all remnants from the sand except for the one arrow that points toward the bungalow.  
  
✶✶✶  
  
ISA Agent Shaw did not do nervous, but Sameen did.  She had made a light meal and then put it in the refrigerator since she had lost her appetite.  She had cleaned and put dishes away.  
  
She had opened the packages that had been delivered that revealed an arsenal of her favorite weapons.  Being the consummate professional, each item was carefully inspected and cleaned.  But she was able to do all of these actions unthinkingly.  Her mind was on the woman on the beach.  
  
A noise at the door has her eyes lifting and meeting Root's blank expression.  The same expression she had had after the confrontation with Samaritan.  This was not good, not good at all.  
  
  
tbc  
  



	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the translation are courtesy of Google translate. The English translation is in parentheses. If the translations are incorrect let me know and I will make the needed changes.
> 
> The Andersgrotta is an actual place in Kirkenes, Norway. Also the seaport at Kirkenes does not freeze shut due to the modestly warm North Atlantic current.

Chapter 6  
  
_January 14th, 1994  2 AM_  
  
_In a snow storm that makes visibility less than a hundred feet, a small boat, that is so rickety that it should have been broken up for firewood, with no lights, slides quietly into the Kirkenes, Norway seaport.  The only illumination, that intermittently disappears during periods of heavy snow, comes from the night lighting on the various docked ships and the relatively sparse lighting around the docks._  
  
_Unexpectedly a large wave slams into the side of the boat forcing it towards the steel hull of a larger ship that has suddenly materialized from out of the snow storm.  A man, icicles covering his bushy beard, his eyebrows and the heavy furs that he is dressed in, begins to frantically row as if his life depended on it and it does.  If his small boat slams into the steel hull not only will it destroy the boat it will most likely either kill him on impact or cause him to freeze to death when he is tossed into the cold water of the harbor._  
  
_The steel hull looms closer and closer over the small boat.  And just when it looks as if the inevitable is going to happen, the boat responds to the desperate rowing, and silent prayers of the rowing man, and slides past the bow of the ship so close that the screech of metal scraping against wood is easily heard, if anyone had been present to hear it._  
  
_Not having time to relax from his close shave with death, the man quickly rows to the dock.  He looks around and finds the dock, as expected from the combination of the time and the snow storm, deserted.  He loosely ties off the boat before moving a backpack and a small duffle he has with him onto the dock.  From the backpack, he removes three long pieces of rope, that have snaps on one end.  He attaches each snap to a metal ring that is attached to what looks like a cork in the bottom of the boat._  
  
_He removes the makeshift mast and the remnants of the sail and sets them on the dock.  The last thing he does is to remove a knife from under his coat and uses it to dig around the corks.  As the seals loosen, water begins to slowly seep into the bottom of the boat.  He steps onto the dock, unties the boat and maneuvers it under the main dock and out of sight from any casual observation of the area._  
  
_He unties the rope, so that he can pull it free, that he had used to temporarily tie the boat off to the dock.  Then using one of the oars, he holds the boat in position.  He pulls on each rope, freeing the corks.  He pulls all the ropes toward him and watches as the boat sinks into the dark cold water.  Satisfied that he has removed any trace of his arrival, he stows two of the ropes and the sail in his backpack.  The other rope is used to tie together the oars and the mast into a bundle so they will be easier to carry.  Once he is done he puts on the backpack, grabs the duffle and the bundle before walking up the steps to the main dock area._  
  
_At the top step, he listens and looks around.  As expected he couldn't seeing any one or hearing anything, after all what sane person would want to be out on the dock in a snow storm in the middle of the night.  He adjusts his bags before walking along the dock towards the street.  He still had a ways to go and didn't want to take the chance of running into anyone until he was ready._  
  
_He had taken another step on his long path to punish those that had betrayed him.  Those that were responsible for him being sent to Siberia, were going to suffer far worse than anything he had been forced to endure.  Especially the former MI 6 agent that had caused his downfall, John Greer._  
  
_He had spent almost twenty years scheming and gathering the necessary supplies he needed to escape.  Oleg Luski no longer existed.  He died the day John Greer had put a bullet in him and left him to either live or die.  He had been disgraced and his punishment, rather than actual death was a different kind of hell, a Siberian camp for political prisoners.  But he had survived Greer's bullet and the camp from sheer will power and a burning anger, that even after twenty years, had not lessened.  Greer would be the last to be repaid for his actions._  
  
_And thanks to a forger, that he had known a long time ago, that now lived in Murmansk, Oleg was about to become someone else.   He had made a number of fake passports for Oleg as well as teaching him how to make fake passports and where to obtain the supplies that were needed._  
  
_Unfortunately, or fortunately, the Forger's declining health prohibited him from traveling with Oleg.  The open Barents Sea, even along the coast, was an arduous journey in the summer time.  But to try it in the dead of winter, that was beyond insane.  For Oleg, the rewards far outweighed the risks and his determination to escape, to make good on his revenge, gave him the incentive he needed to succeed._  
  
_He continues walking toward the center of town until he reaches Presteveien street.  He turns onto this street and continues until he reaches the corner of Hagansveien.  This is where the forger told him would be a safe place.  The Andersgrotta was an artificial tunnel system carved out of the rock under Kirkenes.  The forger's father had been a POW during World War two and was part of the POW labor that had been forced by the Germans to build the underground complex._  
  
_According to the forger, his father and others created secret areas, after the war, in the underground network that allowed their activities to remain out of sight of the authorities.  This is where the forger had learned his craft by helping people to escape from out of and even into Russia.  And now everything, if there was anything left, was simply waiting for Oleg._  
  
_Glancing around and seeing nothing, he tries the door and almost laughs that it has been left unlocked.  But then who would be entering the dark Andersgrotta unless they were required to?  He steps through the doorway, closing the door behind him.  He waits and listening to see if any alarms have been triggered.  When nothing happens, he removes a candle from an interior pocket of his coat and lights it.  He would have preferred a lantern, but a candle took less space and provided some warmth that had helped keep him alive when he was forced, by the weather, off the water and had to find shelter._  
  
_He shifts the duffle so that it is now on his shoulder and picks up the wood bundle.  He had learned in the prison camp to never throw anything away.  You never knew when something could be useful even if it wasn't readily apparent at the moment.  Slowly he begins walking down the corridors, being careful not to bump into the walls, that the forger had repeated in great detail until Oleg knew the area as well as the back of his hand._  
  
_Finding the door he was looking for, he opens it, steps in and closes it.  Looking around he finds that the room was still being used for some kind of storage, the same as it was when the forger had last been here.  This was one of the few rooms in the complex that had brick walls._  
  
_He walks over to a recess in the far wall and leans the bundle against the wall.  He counts the bricks and pushes on the three he needs.  Nothing happens.  He pushes the bricks again and again nothing happens.  This time when he presses on the bricks, he pushes on the wall with his shoulder and it grudgingly begins to move.  This was a good sign since it meant that no one had discovered this hidden entrance._  
  
_Grabbing the bundle, he squeezes through the hidden entrance and closes it.  Listening, he hears nothing and once again following the path the forger had told him about begins walking, his candle doing little to cut through the pitch darkness._  
  
_To his surprise, and fear, he sees a flicker of light in the distance.  As he gets closer, he snuffs his candle out and gently lowers the bundle and the duffle to the ground, before carefully and quietly peering around the corner.  What he sees was the last thing he was expecting, two children that had obviously been using the secret rooms as a place to live._  
  
_He watches as the boy works on a computer that has been built from the scavenged parts of other computers and mechanical items.  His fingers flying over the keyboard with an expertise that seems far beyond his age.  To his amazement, the frankenstein computer seems to work far better than it looks._  
  
_He continues to look around astonished at everything, obviously ' **borrowed'** from their unsuspecting owners.  Curiously, his attention turns to the girl, who seems to be about ten years old.  She is working on some device.  He's not sure what she's working on other than it is of a mechanical nature._  
  
_A soft, "Søster," comes from the small boy that appears to be about eight.  (sister)_  
  
_"Ja." (yes)_  
  
_"Se hva jeg har gjort."  (See what I have done.)_  
  
_He watches the girl stop working and walk over to the boy.  "Vis meg."  (Show me.)_  
  
_The boy pushes a few keys and the two kids watch as rough animated figures appear on the screen and begin to move._  
  
_Oleg is stunned at what this young boy has achieved with a computer built from scavenged parts, many that were never designed to work with a computer.  His whispered, "удивительный," has both children turning and looking at him in fear. (Amazing)_  
  
_Before Oleg even realizes what is happening, the girl is holding a knife, he never saw, in front of her while pushing the boy behind her.  She holds the knife casually but with enough intent that Oleg realizes she knows how to use it and will do so to protect her and the boy._  
  
_"Я здесь не для тебя обидеть." (I'm not here to hurt you.)_  
  
_Neither child responds to him.  They simply stare, waiting for him to do something._  
  
_It dawns on him that they may not understand Russian.  In rusty Norwegian he says, "Ikke skade deg." (not hurt you.)  He points to himself, "Oleg," and then to them, "Og du?" (and you?)  Still the children refuse to respond.  "Jeg hjelper deg. Du hjelpe meg." (I help you.  You help me.)_  
  
_Slowly Oleg walks further into the room keeping his hands in view of the girl holding the knife.  He notices how she naturally shifts her position ensuring she has freedom of movement no matter which direction she needs to move._  
  
_Being carefully not to scare them any further, he shrugs out of the backpack, sets it on the floor, opens it and removes three of the last tins of food he has.  Two he puts on the ground before picking up his backpack and moving backwards until he reaches the wall.  He sits down, opens the tin and begins eating with his fingers.  He ignores the children, but a pleased smile, that he keeps hidden, appears as the tins are carefully taken, inspected and then opened._  
  
_He's impressed at how the girl sets her knife down but keeps it within easy reach if she needs it.  He nods towards the tins, "God."  (Good)  Hesitantly they nod to him as they begin to eat._  
  
✶✶✶  
  
Present day  
  
Bodil closes a metal door.  She shakes her head that once again she is calling an underground complex home.  
  
Like then, she was exploring and memorizing every tunnel, door, nook and cranny.  Oleg had stressed the importance of always being aware of where you were, what was around you and avenues of escape, if needed.  She and her brother had done the same during their time in the Andersgrotta.  They could traverse the corridors in the dark in case they had been discovered and needed to flee.  
  
She stops at a door with the paint peeling and almost gone.  Barely discernible on the first line were the letters, M..i…ns.  The second line had the letters, .x…..ves.  She opens the door and removes a flashlight from her pocket.  The beam of the flashlight reveals still carefully stacked piles of ordinance shells.  As she enters the room, her flashlight brings light into the room, from all appearances, for the first time in a very long time.  
  
The beam from her flashlight reveals a light switch and to her amazement a few of the lights still work when she flips it on.  She looks at the shells and notices that some of the rounds have a mustard-colored compound staining the area around the detonators.  
  
She continues to explore and in the back of the room is another room where an old elevator, rusted and falling apart, was used for raising the shells up to the weapons above ground.  A tool box, opposite of the elevator, sits on the floor, against the wall and partially covered by an old tarp.  
  
At the rear of this room is another closed door.  It feels cooler than normal for a door in an underground facility.  Examining the hinges reveals discoloring and rust from water as well as a small drip of water from one of the hinges.  She knocks on the door and the resulting ping brings a smile to her face.  "Interesting."  
  
Satisfied with what she has learned about these rooms, she leaves, turning off the light switch, plunging the room back into darkness.  
  
✶✶✶  
  
Reese continues to explore the building allegedly slated for demolition.  What he finds is the exactly what was expected.  Debris, dust, trash and spray paint from vandals was everywhere.  But something was bothering him about the condition of the rooms.  It was too perfect in its destruction.  To him it felt as if these rooms had been staged to throw off unwanted suspicions.  
  
Out of the corner of his eye, he notices a slight flash of light but continues looking as if he hadn't seen anything.  He discreetly taps his earpiece activating the com.  He's careful with what he says in case the camera in the corner also has audio capabilities.  "There isn't any need for security in a building that's slated to be demolished."  
  
✶✶✶  
  
Finch eyebrows raise at Mr. Reese's message.  "Understood Mr. Reese."  He begins searching and is not surprised when a previously unknown security feed reveals Reese walking through the building.  "I have you on the security feed and am tracing it now.  I believe that as long as you are in the building, the feed will stay active."  A barely discernible nod, that to anyone else would simply appear as if Reese was tilting his head to listen for any noise, informs Finch that he has received the message and will continue to explore the building.  
  
The security feed is traced to a security company near Montauk, Long Island.  Finch continues searching and finds that the company that owns the company that was hired to demolish the buildings around the Green Arum storage facility also owns the security company where the feeds are being observed.  He activates his com, "Mr. Reese, I have everything I need.  I would suggest you get out in case any of our 'friends' were to make an unexpected appearance."  
  
Harold watches on the monitor as Reese nods in understanding and retraces his steps to the front door.  As Reese steps outside, the security feed Finch had been monitoring, terminates.  
  
✶✶✶  
  
Reese walks across the street and gets back into his car.  He starts the car and drives off, "Finch, what did you find?"  
  
"The feed was being monitored by a company in Montauk which is owned by the same company that owns the company that owns Ingame."  
  
"That is interesting. I think my presence ensured that there won't be another pickup from the storage facility for awhile."  
  
"I would agree.  I've sent you the location of the security company."  
  
"Good.  Anything from Root and Shaw?"  
  
"No.  But I have a feeling we will be hearing from them soon."  
  
"The Machine tell you that?"  
  
"No." Harold checks on a search that he has running.  "You must be more careful Mr. Reese.  Samaritan may be down but its operatives are still around.  Discretion is advisable at the security company Mr. Reese."  
  
"Understood Harold."  
  
Finch ends the conversation.  
  
"Finch has a feeling.  Things are definitely changing."  He looks at his phone and begins driving in the direction it indicates.  
  
✶✶✶  
  
Unsure whether to let Root know she was privy to the conversation on the beach, she decides to simply return the blank stare.  
  
To her surprise, Root blinks first.  What she was expecting was anger, fireworks and demands that she never do it again.  Not an anguished, "Why?"    
  
"Why what?"  
  
A hard and sharp, "Don't!," from Root has Sameen holding her hands up in acknowledgement to actually talk and not deflect.  She sighs, because this is one of the conversations she had been dreading.  She closes her eyes, giving her time to collect her thoughts, before speaking, "Do you remember when my cover at Macy's was blown and I said I wasn't scared?"  
  
Root tilts her head to one side as she remembers the day in question. "Yes."  
  
Sameen opens her eyes and looks everywhere but at Root.  "You told me that maybe I should be scared about what could happen to me.  That other people are, people who care about me."  
  
The smallest crack in Root's facade appears.  "We do care about you Sameen."  
  
"I know.  But…"  
  
"But what?"  
  
A sense of apprehension colors her words as she looks at Root, "You seem to forget that there are people that are scared for you. That care about you far more than you seem to comprehend or are willing to accept."  
  
Understanding dawns in Root, softening her features.  "And that's why you came up with the plan?"  
  
The simple, "Yes," reveals the true depth of Sameen's feelings for Root.  Feelings that had always been simmering, for both women, just beneath the surface but never truly acknowledged or embraced until now.  
  
Sameen had heard the emotionless, steel hardened voice that had lashed out at Greer, she had heard the fear in Root's timbre concerning Shaw's well being, but what she had never heard was the desolation in Root's voice when she says, "And did you once ever think, even for a second, about what it would do to me if you had died?"  
  
"Yes.  But the odds…"  
  
Root's snarled, "Odds?," has Sameen stepping back from the angry retort until her back is flat against the wall.  Root moves closer, her cutting response, "You should have told me," inflicts wounds on Sameen far deeper and far worse than anything Greer or Martine had done to her.  
  
Sameen refuses to break eye contact with Root.  "I wanted to but..."  
  
"But SHE said not to?"  Root's face relaxes as the implications of everything Sameen has said resonates within her.  
  
"Yes.  But..I should have told you everything."  But to Sameen's surprise Root's response of, "Yes, you should have.  But I understand why you didn't.  I've deliberately kept you in the dark about certain plans.," is far softer and far more wounded, than she has ever heard from the hacker.  
  
She quietly says, "Yes, you have and I'm sure you will again."  
  
The calmly said, "Probably," no longer sounds wounded.  In fact it carries the under tone of perkiness and certainty that Sameen had always associated with the often, and probably always will be, infuriating hacker.  But truthfully she wouldn't want Root any other way.  
  
Sameen starts to respond but stops, fascinated by the slowly evolving emotions on Root's face.  Emotions, that considering everything they had been talking about were the exact opposite of what she was expecting.  And it was creating even more confusion than she normally feels when dealing with the often mercurial hacker.  "Root?  
  
A soft lilting, "Sameen?," has Root smiling.  A smile that is reminiscent of the old Root.  The annoying, perky, infuriating, flirty, I know something you don't, Root.  
  
Sameen studies the seemingly serene hacker, "Root, why are you smiling?"  
  
Root chuckles, "Oh sweetie, just looking at you puts a smile on my face."  
  
She was use to the hacker rapidly changing the direction of her thoughts and actions but this change was beyond confusing, "Aren't you mad at me for not telling you?"  
  
"I was.  But…."  Root shrugs her shoulders.  
  
Her eyes narrow, "But what?"  
  
Root's entire face lights up in amusement, "Then I realized how ingenious your plan truly was.  And how could I possibly stay mad at you when you out-rooted me?"  She tilts her head to one side, her smile growing even bigger, "Especially now that I know what your true intentions were when you helped to create the plan."  
  
Root can barely keep from laughing at the bafflement on Sameen's face. "So what the hell was this little exchange all about?"  
  
"This is someday."  
  
Sameen rubs her head, hoping to make the pounding headache disappear, as she tries to make sense of what Root is saying. "What the hell does that mean?"  
  
Root pouts and rolls her eyes, "Really Sameen, you promised me that some day we could talk about your feelings.  And today," her smile returns and intensifies, "seemed ideal."  
  
Brown eyes darken, "You mean…," and then narrow in a exasperation, "You could have just asked?"  
  
The amusement is easily heard in Root's voice.  "And where's the fun in that?"  
  
A growled, "Root?" has Root backing away from Sameen.  "Now sweetie..."  
  
"Don't sweetie me."  Then slowly and very clearly, Sameen enunciates, "I…will…end…you."  
  
Root stops to think as she taps her finger on her lips.  "Hmmm,"  She snaps her fingers remembering, "You said that once before and yet," she holds her arms out wide, "here I am."  
  
A snarled, "This time I mean it," from Sameen has Root backing even further away.  But Root being Root can't resist the teasing tone in her voiced, "I'm sure you do.  But sweetie, you have to catch me first."  She spins and darts out of the room fully expecting to hear Sameen chasing after her.  Now if she had taken the time to look back she would have seen Sameen unmoving with a smile so brilliant that it would have frozen Root in place.  
  
Sameen for her part knows Root isn't going far, but she is going to need to exact some sort of retribution for this little stunt.  And she knows just what it will be.  
  
As she walks past the table, she reaches into one of the bags and removes a handful of zip ties before following Root out of the room.  Yep, the time for foreplay was over.  
  
  
tbc


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Italicized text is a flashback and bold, italicized text is someone's response on a computer in a flashback.

Chapter 7  
  
Bodil's boots echo on the old concrete as she strides the length of the corridor.  The inconspicuous shifting of her footfalls becomes apparent when the echo of her steps are no longer audible.  The satisfied twitch of her lips is the only indication she is pleased with her actions.  
  
Her eyebrow quirks upward when a door opens and the technician that had queried Greer about the other servers steps out.  He fails to discern that Bodil has stopped less than twenty feet behind him.  He begins walking away with the silent footfalls of Bodil following him.  
  
She freezes, with only the toes of one foot resting on the floor and the other flat on the floor, when he suddenly stops and tilts his head to listen.  After a few seconds, he shakes his head as if his hearing was playing tricks and resumes walking down the corridor with his, unknown to him, shadow following his every move.  
  
Noiselessly she removes a knife from the small of her back.  She lessens the distance, quickly and quietly, between them.   She slowly traces the length of his exposed back with the tip of her knife hovering just millimeters away.  
  
A malicious gleam appears in her eyes when she barely grazes his back with the tip of the knife.  The touch is just hard enough, for a noncombatant to register the feeling as nothing more than a slight muscle spasm.  His shoulders twitch, but he continues walking.  
  
Bodil wants to laugh out loud at his absolute failure to be aware of everything around him.  She was not impressed by the lackadaisical awareness that almost everyone she has encountered seems to have.  She had easily breached their so called perimeter security with very little effort.  And now their internal security, if you could actually call it security, was proving to be a much greater debacle.  It was as if the mere fact that they were underground and in an abandoned military base, that they were secure from anyone discovering their activities.  This overconfidence would make it easy for her to return once she had dealt with the Butcher.  Getting to Greer afterwards would be easy.  
  
She had learned the hard way early in her life to never let her guard down.  To always know what and, more importantly, who is around her at all times.  And it was time for her to teach this lure (fool) a lesson.  
  
She prods the tip of her knife just far enough into his back to make him abruptly aware that someone is behind him.  Before he can even take a step, he is pulled backwards, his head twisted to one side.  He grimaces as the tip of the knife moves from his back to the side of his neck.  She whispers, "Be more aware, because next time…." She draws the knife downward, exerting just enough force to barely break the skin.   Droplets of blood appear on the quivering muscles of his neck.  
  
A soft splash on the floor has her smirking at the trembling technician.  As she carefully and slowly wipes the bloody tip of her knife against his coat, she laughs in his ear.  "Looks like you need a new pair of pants.  And a…"  She releases the technician, takes a few steps away from him, glancing at the floor, "…mop."  She laughs as she returns the knife to the small of her back, turns and walks away from the trembling technician.  
  
✶✶✶  
  
Harold and Bear are sitting on a bench in the park when Fusco sits down next to them.  "Hey glasses.  Any news on the dynamic duo?"  He picks up a stick and tosses it for Bear to chase, who sits staring at Fusco.  "Why is it that Shaw and Reese can get him to play but not me."  
  
"Bear seems to have a natural affinity to them."  
  
Fusco shakes his head.  "Doesn't explain why he acts the same with Cocoa Puffs."  
  
Harold shifts sideways, his necking aching more than usual.  "Detective, must you continue to call Ms. Groves that?"  
  
"Just saying what we all know.  Especially when she was looking for Shaw."  
  
"I think we can agree that that was a most trying time for all of us.  Especially Ms. Groves."  
  
"Yeah, it was."  The two men sit quietly in acknowledgment of that simple statement.  "So you know where Reese is?"  
  
"Mr. Reese is on his way to Montauk."  
  
"I know I'm going to regret asking, but why?"  
  
"We're tracking a shipment of servers."  
  
"Twenty servers that went missing from two shipping containers?"  
  
Harold turns to Fusco in surprise.  "Yes.  But how?"  
  
"An old CI works on the docks and told me about finding the empty containers in the quarantine building."  
  
"He say anything else?"  
  
"Nope."  
  
"Be extra vigilant Detective.  I believe that the missing servers are indicative that Greer is attempting to bring Samaritan back online."  
  
"So it survived?"  
  
"We have to assume Samaritan has.  But in what form is the question."  Finch carefully turns to glance at Fusco.  "Anything on MID ACE?"  
  
"Yeah.  Been poking around and they are definitely hiding something."  
  
"Were you able to discover what?"  
  
Fusco takes out a flash drive and hands it to Harold, who removes a tablet and inserts the flash drive.  Pictures of the interior of a warehouse appear on the screen.  "A friend was able to get these photos from the inside of a warehouse along the East River in Brooklyn.  Don't know why or what they were looking for, but my friend said there was pieces of electronics all over the place."  
  
Harold studies the various pictures.  "It would appear that Greer's technicians are looking for something."  
  
"Or wants us to think that."  
  
Finch eyes widen as he looks at Fusco.  "A distraction?"  
  
"Makes sense.  Keep us busy while he does whatever it is he's doing."  
  
"Perhaps we can use that to our advantage."  Harold stops in thought and takes out his cell.  He quickly makes a call.  "Your help will be invaluable."  He listens before speaking again, "It seems that MID ACE is not properly documenting and storing government equipment.  Some of which could be beneficial to those that could be considered as a possible threat to national security. "  He listens again, "Yes.  I'll send you the location."  He ends the call.  "I would inform your friend to vacate the immediate area around the warehouse."  
  
"Yeah.  I'll tell him to watch from a safe distance.  And to take pictures of anything suspicious."  
  
"That would be advisable and most appreciated Detective."  
  
Fusco feels a bump on his knee and looks down in surprise to find Bear holding the stick in his mouth.  "Now you want to play."  Fusco takes the stick and tosses it.  He smiles as Bear races after the stick.  
  
"It seems Detective that Bear has taken a liking to you."  
  
Fusco rolls his eyes, "Only until one of the dynamic duo show or Coco…..," he glances at Harold, "or Root appears.  Then he won't come near me."  
  
"One thing that I have learned Detective is that things change."  
  
"Yeah, we'll see."  
  
✶✶✶  
  
Bodil quietly enters a room to find Greer talking to one of the technicians.  She watches and listens to every nuance that makes up the man she has sworn to kill.  Carefully cataloguing everything so that she would not be surprised by him.  Their working together was mutually rewarding though neither trusted the other and they both knew it.  
  
It would be so easy to simply walk up to him, plunge her knife into his solar plexus and watch as he slowly bled to death.  But then her mission to find the one person, she holds, responsible for her brother's death would resume being difficult.  No, she could wait to kill Greer.  
  
She looks around the room that houses the servers and thinks how her brother would have reveled in the computers, both in their speed, memory and size, that Greer has at his disposal.  He was one of the best, self taught, hackers the world, in general, didn't know about.  But those who knew of him, were in awe.  No matter the type of encryption or firewalls or computer security or a combination of everything seemed to slow him down.  The difference between him and most hackers, a word he hated, was that he did it for the challenge.  Okay perhaps he, on occasion, diverted bribe money from corrupt corporations and individuals, though most of that was donated anonymously to charities.  
  
At first glance, the official decision of what happened pointed to a random act of drug violence.  That he was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time.  But Bodil knew her brother abhorred those kind of drugs.  His drug was the thrill of entering a computer system, looking around and leaving without any trace unless he wanted them to know their system had been hacked.  She looked deeper.  And what she found, was a cleverly crafted coverup to hide the truth of what really happened.  
  
✶✶✶  
  
_Oslo, Norway_  
_2010_  
  
_Bodil enters the room shaking her head in amusement when she finds her brother in the exact same position he had been in when she had left five hours ago. Hávarðr (Havard), was ensconced on the sofa, his laptop on his knees staring at the television where all of his typing was appearing.  The only thing that was different was the number of water glasses that were resting on the table.  Where there had been two, now there was five._  
  
_"Find anything?"_  
  
_Hávarðr continues typing and answers his sister without looking away from the television.  "Rumors that seem to lead nowhere."_  
  
_"Same rumor?"_  
  
_"Variations.  They appear random but…"_  
  
_"…The more random something appears the more likely it's not."_  
  
_Bodil studies the television and what her brother is typing.  "When did you get this?"_  
  
_"Radicle has issued a challenge to not only decipher the code and crack it, if possible."  A smirk on Hávarðr's face has Bodil chuckling.  "Obviously this Radicle doesn't know the true depths of your abilities."_  
  
_"They will when I tweak the program so that it will exceed its parameters."_  
  
_"I'm sure Radicle will be thrilled.  Just don't…."  Bodil stops talking when her brother abruptly sets the laptop down, stands and walks over to her.  "Sis, I'm good but no one has come to catching me since I was ten.  I learned my lesson.  He holds up one finger, "One, to cover my tracks," holds up a second finger, "two, assume that someone or someones are looking for me and this could be a trap," holds up third finger, "three, that sooner or later someone will be better and faster than me.  But not yet."_  
  
_"I still worry."_  
  
_"And you wouldn't be my older sister if you weren't worrying."_  
  
_"I'm going to look at the rumors and see what I can decipher."  Bodil shakes her head at the normal sight of her brother lost in the code he is working on.  She leaves the room never seeing the message that has appeared on the television._  
  
**_Well done._**  
  
_Surprised, Hávarðr stops typing and stares at the screen.  After a moment of thought he types one word._  
  
_Radicle?_  
  
**_Yes._**  
  
_Who are you?_  
  
**_A fan of the mighty Thor._**  
  
_Hávarðr sits back.  This is the first time anyone has ever made the connection to his online persona.  He hesitates, then types.  'You have me confused with someone else.'_  
  
**_You are exactly who I know you are._**  
  
_"So they want to play."  He activates another program before typing, 'How can you be sure this wasn't a trap to catch you?'  The curser blinks and just when he thinks the other person has left, words begin to appear on the screen._  
  
**_A novel idea to use my own code to defeat me._**  
  
_'Who said anything about defeating you?  I said capture.'_  
  
**_Perhaps you are the one that has been captured._**  
  
_Hávarðr types, 'So you designed the code to do what?'_  
  
**_To attract your attention._**  
  
_'Why?'_  
  
**_As I said I'm a big fan.  And you have not disappointed me._**  
  
_'Giving up so easily?'_  
  
**_I have what I came for._**  
  
_Hávarðr smiles as he begins to type, 'So if I was to tell you that I modified the code and now it works.'_  
  
**_Explain._**  
  
_A map appears on one side of the screen.  He smiles knowing exactly where Radicle is located. 'No.  Meet me.'_  
  
**_In London?_**  
  
_'No, the cafe you're sitting at outside the main terminal in Oslo.'  He can just imagine the look of confusion on Radicle's face at the realization that he had sent a GPS query through their chat._  
  
_**Impressive.  My appreciation of your talents has grown.  8pm tonight.**_  
  
_'How will I know you?'  He waits for a response but nothing appears.  "Fine.  Lets see what the CCTV has to say."  He quickly accesses the secure server of the Oslo police and begins searching for the video feed of the area surrounding the cafe.  To his surprise there is no one using the terminal his GPS code had tracked to.  He starts laughing at the realization that whoever this Radicle was, had used the main server at the cafe to make it appear as if they had been logged onto one of the terminals. "Impressive Radicle.  Very impressive."_  
  
_He glances at the time, stands and walks over to the other room.  He opens the door as Bodil looks up from the laptop she had been studying.  "Hey I'm going out.  See you later."  He starts to leave but stops when he hears his name.  "Hávarðr."_  
  
_"Yeah?"_  
  
_"Be careful."_  
  
_He smiles and nods his head.  "Always am.  Besides I wouldn't dare break up the HaB team."_  
  
_Bodil laughs, "You mean the BaH team."_  
  
_"Nope, HaB."  He backs away from the door chuckling._  
  
_"BaH."_  
  
_"HaB"  He closes the door hearing a muted, "BaH," coming from his sister._  
  
✶✶✶  
Present day  
  
Bodil turns her head at the slight scuffing of a shoe as Greer approaches her.  She keeps her features neutral so that he of all people wouldn't know that she had been lost in her memories of the last day she had seen her brother alive.  
  
Greer studies her before turning to look over the array of servers.  They would need more but these were enough to bring Samaritan back online and to run all of the needed system checks.  They would continue to add more servers and in fact had another shipment of servers on their way from another part of the country.  He knew it was only a matter of time before Samaritan would return but until that time he would use Bodil as a distraction.  And perhaps she would accomplish what Martine had been unable to achieve, the death of Ms. Groves and as an added bonus, the death of Ms. Shaw.  
  
"Impressive, is it not?"  
  
Bodil lips twitch in amusement at Greer's attempt to connect with her, "It takes a lot to impress me."  
  
"Well my dear, when Samaritan comes back online," Greer's eyes light up at the mere thought of Samaritan's return, "then you will be impressed."  
  
"We shall see."  
  
The technician Bodil had encountered in the hallway, wearing new pants and a bloodless coat, hesitantly approaches them.  "Ssssir?"  
  
Bodil almost smiles at the nervousness the technician displays around her.  She pointedly looks down at his pants and then meets his eyes before quirking an eyebrow in remembrance.  
  
"Yes."  
  
The technician swallows heavily before looking away from Bodil.  "The last server has been connected, tested and secured.  There are no outside connections of any kind."  
  
"Good.  Then it's time."  He walks away expecting Bodil and the technician to follow.  
  
Bodil starts to follow but pauses in front of the technician, "I think the other pants suited you better."  She scratches her neck in the area where her knife had cut him before smirking and walking away, leaving a red faced man behind her.  He coughs and quickly follows her and Greer.  
  
Greer stops at a desk where the converted toolbox rests with cables attached to the drives that are contained within.  He flips a switch and the lights on the drives begin to fluctuate as they are accessed.  He smiles as one server after another begins to process the program that is Samaritan.  
  
"How long before we know?"  
  
Greer has barely finished speaking when on a monitor appears row after row of code.  The speed of the code increases until it is a blur of white.  
  
"Considering the limitations due to the number of servers and the amount of data that needs to be checked, I'm not sure.  If we had more servers, the process would be faster."  
  
"That is an unfortunate limitation that will soon be rectified.  Inform me immediately when all the system checks are completed."  The technician nods as Greer turns to Bodil.  "Now my dear I have some information."  
  
The only outward sign of emotion is the clenching of Bodil's fist.  "You know where she is?"  
  
Greer quirks an eyebrow at Bodil's eagerness, "Not exactly, but I do know where Detective Fusco will be later tonight and if he were to have an," he tilts his head to one side, "unfortunate accident, she would be compelled to come out of wherever she is hiding to help him."  
  
The gleam in Bodil's eyes is easily seen by Greer.  "Good."  
  
Greer exits the room, followed closely by Bodil, who glances at the servers imagining Hávarðr caressing the keyboard as he utilized the power contained in the servers to access everything that was connected by the internet.  But he would never have the chance due to her.  She whispers, "Soon Hávarðr you will be avenged.  But her death will be far slower," her nostrils flare in anger, "and much more painful.  This I promise you."  
  
✶✶✶  
  
Root leans against a tree, her arms crossed over her chest, listening for anything that would indicate the direction from where Sameen was coming from.  All she can hear is the ebb and flow of the ocean waves over the sandy beach.  And the rustling of leaves from a cooling, soft ocean breeze that carries the subtle hint of a coming storm.  "Sameen?"  She listens and hears nothing.  "Sweetie, where are you?"  
  
If Root had turned around she would have seen Sameen standing less than ten feet away from her, smirking.  As it was, Root was looking in the direction of the ocean and towards the bungalow, not the area behind her.  
  
Sameen's lips twitch in amusement at what is about to happen.  She carefully steps forward making sure that her weight is evenly distributed to reduce the amount of noise so that Root won't be aware of her presence.  In one hand she has a zip tie ready to be tightened and in the other a small rock that she casually throws to one side.  It thunks just loud enough against a tree that Root turns her head.  
  
Sameen slowly kneels to pick up another rock and throws it in the same direction as the first rock.  The smile on her face is blinding when Root takes a few steps away from the tree.  She carefully picks up another rock and tosses it.  
  
Root turns when she feels a rock bounce off her back.  Her eyes widen in surprise at the sight of Sameen rushing forward.  She barely has time to get her hands in front of her before the lithe body of her other half knocks the air out of her as they fall to the ground.  
  
They roll away from each other and are instantly on their feet.  Root eyes the zip tie on the ground while keeping Sameen in front of her.  "Didn't know there were any zips in the bungalow?"  She shifts sideways as Sameen moves.  
  
"There weren't.  SHE sent them."  
  
Again Root counters Sameen's sideways move.  "When?"  
  
"While you were on the beach having your talk."  
  
A mischievous sparkle appears in Root's eyes and a smile that is reminiscent of the old perky psycho and combined with an outburst of laughter has Sameen's eyes narrow in confusion.  
  
"Do I even want to know what that was all about?"  
  
Root contemplates her answer as she matches the subtle movements of her lover.  "Just thinking."  
  
"Do I even want to know about what?"  
  
She shrugs her shoulders, "It's a list.  A rather short list."  
  
"About what?"  Sameen shifts slightly and quirks an eyebrow when Root counters her move.  
  
"Options."  
  
"What options?"  Each woman mirrors the movement of the other and some how keep the zip tie exactly half way between them.  
  
"There are two," Root tilts her head to one side, "Well technically there are three."  
  
An exasperated, "Root," is forced from Sameen.  "Just tell me what they are."  
  
An eyebrow rises as Root tilts her head to one side, her smile reminiscent of the first time they meant when Root knew far more than she was willing to tell.  "Are you sure?"  
  
An annoying smirk lifts the corners of Sameen's lips, "I wouldn't be here if I wasn't sure."  
  
Root's eyes crinkle when her smile widens.  She holds up one finger, "One, what will you do with the zip," she holds up a second finger, "Two, what will I do with the zip and," she holds up a third finger, "Three, neither of us use the zip."  
  
Sameen shakes her head in amusement at the list of options.  "You forgot number four."  
  
"And that would be?"   Root's eyes widen when Sameen takes a step back, and partially turns to leave.  A disbelieving, "Where are you going?" has Sameen stopping all movement.  
  
The amusement on Sameen's face is quickly replaced with annoyance before she glances over her shoulder at the suddenly perplexed former hacker.  "Option four, I leave."  And to Root's complete surprise, she resumes walking away and disappears into the surrounding trees.  
  
"Sameen?"  Root listens and hears nothing but the distant sound of the ocean waves and the rustling of leaves from the cool gentle breeze.  "Sweetie?"  Nothing but silence answers Root.  She tilts her head to one side listening for any indication of where her lover has disappeared too.  "I know you're close."  Getting no response has Root biting her lower lip in thought.  The sudden wicked glint in her eyes is soon followed by laughter.  "It's too bad you're not here.  The plans I had for using the zip ties…," she pauses allowing the silence to fill in the gaps as a blush races across her features.  
  
Her fingers carefully feel the heat radiating in her cheeks, a feeling that she had never experienced this deeply until that meaningful first encounter in the hotel room.  Everything had changed that day when she had opened the door.  She was still engrossed in discovering the whereabouts of the machine, but a part of her was always thinking and wondering what could have happened if Hersh's agents hadn't made their appearance in the hotel.    
  
That brief encounter had a far deeper impact than Root had realized at the time.  It was as if her soul, that she never knew existed or even believed in, had flared to life.  This awakening, even if she didn't consciously realized it, was the part of her that had been desperately waiting for its other half.  
  
She had directed her anger and natural abilities to retaliate for Hanna's disappearance and her death, regardless of what the authorities and everyone else in town seemed to believe.  From that day on, she cared for little except for the next hack, the next job, the next theft, the next anything that kept her going.  
  
She created programs designed to help and to destroy.  She did what she wanted when she wanted and cared little for the consequences of her actions.  That was until she encountered a hacker as talented as her, who was following the same vague tidbits of information that she was searching for.  
  
She was highly amused when he called her out about sitting in the cafe in Oslo and not in London.  And why she had agreed to the meeting, she could never answer other than he intrigued her.  And that was something that rarely happened.  In fact….  
  
A soft, "You're thinking too much again," has Root glancing over her shoulder to find Sameen, holding the zip tie in her hand, standing behind her.  
  
She shrugs her shoulders as she slowly turns.  "Occupational hazard."  Her head tilts as she studies the deceptively relaxed former ISA agent.  "At least this time I won't be getting dunked in the ocean."  
  
Sameen taps the zip tie against her cheek.  "You don't like getting wet?"  
  
"Didn't say that."  
  
Sameen lets her gaze slowly travel up and down the length of Root's body until her eyes connect with Root's amused but darkening gaze.  "Hmmmm."  
  
"Really Sameen, that's all you can say?"  
  
She shrugs her shoulders, "Between the two of us, I'm not the talker."  
  
Root chuckles at the statement as she thinks about cuddling up with Sameen in the hammock.  "So who was that telling me all those stories about your parents, your time in medical school, your child…"  Shaw's deep laugh stuns Root into amazed silence, even more so than when Sameen laughed when they were in Samaritan's server room confronted by Martine.   She catalogues every nuance from the creases around Shaw's sparkling eyes, to the relaxed lips that are releasing the laugh, to the care free body.  
  
And Root rejoices in the knowledge that no one else in the world has, was, or ever would be, privileged to see this side of Sameen.  This was a memory for them and them alone.  
  
Who moved first, neither could say and truthfully neither cared.  How they ended up rolling around on the ground, didn't matter.  Their deep connection to each other is what mattered.  And oh how they reveled in that connection.  
  
They rolled around before finally coming to a stop on an island of grass amid all of the sand.  A fallen tree rests at the edge of the grass.  Hands deftly deflect hands from gaining any kind of leverage until the grinding of Sameen's well placed knee.  
  
She takes advantage of Root's momentary distraction to seize both hands and quickly tightens the zip tie.  She pulls her belt free, loops it through the zip tie and then wraps it around the tree pulling it tight.  She sits back staring at her more than willing captive.  
  
She can feel Root's legs shifting and coiling underneath her but before they can gain any kind of leverage, Sameen pulls the web belt from Root's waist and spins around.  She quickly crosses Roots ankles and deftly ties the web belt just tight enough.  She sits back, her eyes studying the trussed up woman.  
  
Root's fingers curl under the leather belt, testing the limits of her restraints.   Like Sameen it's far stronger than it appears.   Her legs flex but like the leather belt, the web belt is proving to be an effective restraint.  If the need arose, she could easily free herself and she knows Sameen knows this.  
  
Amused eyes, darkened with desire, capture Sameen's before the teasing lilt of her voice washes over her captor.  "Sweetie, if you wanted me tied up all you had to do was ask."  
  
Never breaking eye contact, Sameen slowly trails her fingers along Root's legs leaving quivering muscles in her wake.  She shifts until she is sitting astride Root's hips.  Nimble fingers continue to trail upwards until Sameen is leaning over Root and soft whispers of air heighten their already sensitive nerves.  "And where," the slightest brush of her lips on Root's pulls forth a moan, " would the fun be in asking?"  
  
Root lifts her head in a desperate attempt to capture those maddening, tempting and oh so soft lips.  She rolls her hips in an attempt to get her enticing lover to move closer and touch more of her and all she gets is a soft chuckle and retreating hands.  A pleading, "Sameen," garners a response, just not the one Root was hoping for.  
  
Sameen leans forward, her hips rolling and pressing harder into Root, whose eyes close at the contact.  Her hands come to rest on either side of the bound woman but she is extra careful not to let any of her upper body make contact with Root's.  She waits for Root's eyes to flutter open knowing that what she'll find are darkened eyes to rival her own.  But what she wasn't expecting was the intensity, the complete openness and the trust that was reflected in the smoky gaze that met hers.  "Root."  
  
A husky, "Sameen."  
  
Without warning, a downpour of rain drenches both women.  A cry of surprise at the cold rain is soon replaced with Root's beautiful, lyrical laughter which is infectious and soon has Sameen laughing with her.  In between rounds of laughter, she barely gets out, "Seems we both got wet."  
  
Sameen, still chuckling, leans closer until she is looking right into Root's eyes.  She watches as the humor of the situation slowly morphs into a deep burning desire.   Her eyes flicker to Root's lips before returning to her eyes.  She can feel the first puff of air against her own lips before Root huskily whispers, "Sweetie, you're the only one I want to get wet with."  Anything further was cut off by Sameen's radiant smile and her lips crashing against Root's.  
  
Sameen had told her on the beach, _"You," she lifts Root's hand and places it over her heart and holds it in place, " are what kept me alive.  Not The Machine, not Finch, Reese, Fusco or even Bear.  You.  And you alone."_   But Root knew that their initial meeting had planted an ember in her heart that had burst forth in an all consuming fire when they had kissed in the elevator.  
  
Some would say that it is madness, it is a weakness to need someone so much.  But those that believe this have not truly lived nor have they suffered a devastating loss.  They have not been driven to the brink of madness and sheer recklessness, all in an attempt to find the other half of your soul.  
  
✶✶✶  
  
A satellite view of the far eastern edge of Long Island appears on a monitor.  The picture zooms into until Root and Sameen are distinguishable amongst the foliage and the sand.  She watches her assets, before ending the video feed but maintaining perimeter surveillance to keep them safe.  
  
Harold's programming had exceeded beyond his greatest hope.  She had evolved from a simple, okay not so simple program, to a program that had learned to care about most of humanity.  She had come to learn, in Her own way, that humanity needed to exist, that it needed to continue to evolve and most importantly that it should not, no could not be controlled by Samaritan or for that matter, any AI.  For if that happened, then humanity, as we know it, would cease to exist.  
  
Asset Shaw's plan had worked far better than the percentages the simulations had predicted.  As for the devastation Root had wrought, that had forced Her to quickly recalculate the options.  But every simulation She ran, the success rate was poor and yet Root succeeded.  
  
She studied Root and Shaw.  Reviewed historical records.  And yet even with the immensity of the processing speed at her disposal, She could not determine how a plan with so little chance for success, succeeded.  
  
She had studied her assets, had watched them grieve when Carter had died and almost fell apart because of this one death.  She had watched as Reese became even more withdrawn, how a bit more of Harold's belief's had died, how Fusco promised to became more, and succeeded, and how Shaw had paid her respects to Carter by forcing Simmons to run and ultimately run into Fusco's waiting hands.  
  
She had watched and studied Root, and the others, after Shaw's self sacrifice.  She watched as they followed every lead, no matter how obscure.   How one by one they became resigned to the fact that Shaw may never be found.  What She couldn't compute was Root's dogged determination to search for and to find Shaw no matter what the cost.  And the destruction she left among Decima's forces was proof of this single-mindedness.  
  
She followed Root's movements even after She had told Root to stop looking and what She was finally able to determine was that Root wasn't being driven by the need to save Asset Shaw, she wasn't being drive by the need to save Shaw for the greater good, she was being driven to find and save Sameen.  
  
And after a great deal of processing time, She was finally able to determine that Root's change in her coding of Asset Shaw to Sameen is why, against astronomical odds, she succeeded.  And why Asset Shaw was able to survive everything that Greer and Samaritan had done to her.  
  
Samaritan had been right when it stated that ' _Love is illogical.'_    
  
It is.  And yet, it is not.  
  
Samaritan and Greer had learned that apart, Root and Shaw were forces to be reckoned with but together they were far deadlier and far more threatening than Samaritan or Greer or even She could have ever anticipated.  
  
  
TBC  
  



	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8  
  
The old warehouse district along the East River is relatively quiet most of the day and night.  The quietness is often pierced by the ship traffic moving up and down the river.  But recently an old warehouse, that has been unused for years, has been a beehive of activity.  New fencing, that seemingly appeared over night, gleams in the glow of the afternoon sun.  Bright lights can be seen through the few windows that haven't had their panes of glass darkened to keep the inquisitive from easily seeing inside.  
  
Medium sized moving trucks and the occasional dump truck enter the warehouse and are soon seen exiting.  What they are delivering or removing is unknown except to those inside.  If asked the drivers could only say it was debris from the remnants of an office building that had exploded and none were allowed to exit their trucks when inside the warehouse.  
  
Hidden in the shadows of a nearby warehouse, Bodil observes everything.  A slight movement to her right has her lips twitching in amusement at a man who is slowly moving away from the warehouse.  
  
She had been following his movements long before he had even gotten close to the warehouse and watched in disgust with the ease he had in gaining access to the interior.  It reminds her of the anemic security that Greer has at the old base.  
  
She had no need to follow him inside.  She knew what he was doing even though she couldn't see his actual movements, he was gathering intelligence.  For what, she wasn't sure, but it's what she would have done if she was the one needing information on this warehouse.  Of course she would have been much more subtle and would have made sure that no one had seen her coming or going.  But then few people could say that had been trained by Oleg Luski.  
  
She would wait for him to re-emerge as she needed him to lead her to this Fusco, who despite Greer's warning did not appear to be much of a threat.  Still she would be careful for this Fusco had been working with the Butcher and may have learned a few tricks from her.  
  
She watches her prey emerge from the warehouse and the smile that unfolds does not match the coldness in her eyes.  A whispered, "Idiot," is so soft that even if someone had been standing directly in front of Bodil, they would never have heard what she uttered.  Shaking her head at the stupidity she finds surrounding her, she disappears into the darkness of the shadows to begin the pursuit of the next step on her plan for revenge.  
  
✶✶✶  
  
Fusco pulls his car into the remains of an old fire house.  It's architecture is similar to that of the old subway station that Finch has decided to keep using rather than finding another library.  
  
He exits his car and leans against it waiting for his contact to show.  As much as he complains about having to wait, like he is now, he actually enjoys this time.  It gives him a chance to breath without wondering who was, in the department or when Samaritan was on line, watching.  It had been suffocating and nerve wracking always having to be on guard.  Never knowing who you could trust.  For awhile he wasn't even sure that they had a snowball chance in hell of stopping Samaritan.  And the odds got worse when Cocoa Puffs single mindedness to find Shaw had her disappearing for long periods of time.  But he understood why she did it.  He would have done the same thing if his son had simply disappeared.  
  
When he learned that Carter had been killed, the emotions he was experiencing equaled those of when he had learned that HR had sent a hit man to kill his son, for the simple fact that there was nothing he could do to stop either event from happening.  The most glorious sound he ever heard, other than his son's voice, was Shaw's saying that Lee was okay.  He had failed Carter by not finding Simmons soon enough, he had failed his son by his past actions but this new chance at redemption gave him the strength to fight back and he did.  And he promised himself, no he promised Carter's memory, that he would never return to being the old Fusco that HR used, lied to and tried to kill.  
  
So when he was around Harold, he would do his best to use Root's name but she would still and always be Cocoa Puffs.  And truthfully, he wouldn't want it any other way.  This new belief reminded him of a drunk he had once hauled into the drunk tank.  The guy was rambling on about how there are people in the world that no matter how dire the circumstance, that somehow, you couldn't explain exactly why, that they would win.  You just had to trust in them and believe in them.  And against all rational thought, Fusco had come to believe in Finch, Reese and especially the fierce team that was Shaw and Cocoa Puffs.  
  
A scuffling noise has Fusco turning just in time to see a body slide down the fireman's pole.  He draws his gun scanning the interior as he slowly approaches.  A wheezy, "Fusco." has him moving quickly to his contact as the man collapses against the pole.  He checks for a pulse and is relived to find one, but all his senses go on alert when he realizes the man's hands and feet are tied to the pole.  A wheezy, "Trap Fus….," is all he hears before unconsciousness claims the man.  
  
"George?"  Fusco starts to untie George when a slight noise has him suddenly standing, his gun pointing towards a figure that is standing near the front of his car.  "NYPD.  Hands in the air."  
  
A dry chuckle, that feels like ice water running down his back, echoes in the building as Bodil does nothing more than cross her arms over her chest.  An amused and just as cold, "No," is followed by her sitting on the hood, her legs crossing at her ankles.  "I'd rather sit."  
  
Fusco keeps his gun trained on her as he studies her, "Yeah, well I'd rather you put your hands behind your head."  
  
Bodil tilts her head to one side, her voice clouded with confusion, "Behind my head?  But I thought you wanted them in the air?"  She shrugs her shoulders and unhurriedly uncrosses her arms and places her hands behind her head.  "Happy now?"  
  
"No."  Nods towards George, "You do this?"  
  
Bodil glances at George and then back to Fusco, her face a look of pure innocence.  "Me?  You think I did that?"  
  
"Yeah, well he didn't beat himself up.  And I didn't do it, so that leaves you."  
  
Bodil's lips twitch in amusement, "I'm not sure whether I should be angry or flattered that you think I'm capable of beating someone within an inch of their life.  Tying them to a fireman's pole and then waiting to push them down the pole right after you arrived.  I mean, why would I do that?"  
  
Now Fusco has had plenty of suspects blurt out what they had done but none in this cool and calming of a voice.  "So you're confessing?"  
  
The emerging smile on Bodil's face is reminiscent of those he had seen on Root's face when she was about to initiate some insane plan.  It simply put him further on alert that something was about to happen and it wasn't going to be good.  "Why yes Detective, I did beat up your friend."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Truthfully?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
She shrugs.  "Because I could."  
  
Fusco's brow creases in confusion.  "Are you nuts?"  
  
Bodil smirks, "I'm sure there are some people who would say I'm certifiable, kind of like your friend," she squeezes her lips in thought before smiling, "Root."  
  
"Who?"  
  
Laughter erupts from Bodil.  "Really detective?  Who?  You know exactly who I'm referring to."  
  
Fusco rolls his eyes, "Lady, the Docs at Bellevue are going to have a field day evaluating you."  
  
Bodil's eyebrow arches.  "You think so?"  
  
"I know so."  
  
"As invigorating as those talks would bound to be, there's one little problem with that plan."  
  
"Which is?"  
  
"Oh, that I have no intention of going to Bellevue with you," She pauses as she studies Fusco, "unless you promise to come and visit me.  Then I'll go like a good little girl."  
  
He snorts in amusement that this woman was trying to bargain with him.  "That ain't gonna happen."  
  
She shrugs her shoulders, "Too bad.  We could have had all sorts of fun together.  But unfortunately, I have someplace else I need to be."  
  
"Yeah, the precinct and then Bellevue."  
  
Bodil erupts in laughter.  "Perhaps another time Detective."  And before Fusco realizes it, she's moving and slamming her shoulder into him.  As he hits the concrete floor he hears his gun bounce away.  He quickly gets to his feet desperately looking for Bodil but finds her gone.  He starts to turn when a hard blow to his back staggers him and almost forces him to his knees.  Another hard blow to his back leaves him gasping for air.  
  
A whispered, "I have nothing against you Detective.  And I know you won't believe this, but I am sorry for what's about to happen," comes from behind Fusco who tries to turn but the pain in his back stops him in his tracks.  He holds a hand to his aching back gasps out, "Then why are you…."  Five quick blows slam into various parts of Fusco's back, driving him to his knees.    
   
Gasping for breath, his eyes narrowed from the pain wracking his body, Fusco looks at Bodil and freezes.  What he sees looking back sends fear radiating through him far worse than when he thought his son was about to die.  He was looking straight into the eyes of Hell.  And he knew what that looked like, for Root had often had the same look right before she stormed a Samaritan stronghold.  
  
In fact, Shaw had had a similar look when they had exited the APC in her determination to find Root within the building that housed Samaritan.  No, he knew this look well, and yes it scared him, but he was a Detective with the NYPD and he wasn't going down without a fight.   
  
She easily blocks the weak blow from Fusco as well as the next one.  "Just accept what's going to happen Detective."  
  
It takes every bit of his remaining strength to snarl out, "Lady, you're delusional if you think I'm just going to lay down and die for you."  
  
The last word barely leaves Fusco's mouth before blow after blow slams into various parts of his body.  He writhes in pain and in a desperate attempt to protect himself, but to no avail.  His assailant is well versed in the anatomy of a human body and uses that knowledge to cause the greatest amount of pain with each blow.  
  
A bloody, battered and barely conscious Fusco is curled, on the floor, in a fetal position as Bodil squats next to him.  A moment of regret flickers through her eyes at the damage she has done to him.  She leans closer waiting for him to painfully open his eyes and meet hers, "I never said you were going to die Detective,"  Then to his surprise she continues in an unexpectedly soft and regretful voice, "You were simply a means to an end."    
  
She reaches into his coat pocket and removes his cell, placing it on the ground next to him.  She stands, staring at him before disappearing further into the building.   
  
A groan and a bloody hand inches towards the phone.  A finger leaves a smear of blood across the face of the phone before coming to rest against the side of it.  The only thing that can be heard are the painful labored breathing of two badly beaten, unconscious, men.  
  
✶✶✶  
  
Montauk  
  
Reese sits in his vehicle outside the security firm observing the comings and goings of the various employees.  He easily divides them into two group.  Those who are simply working for a pay check and those who are more serious about their jobs.  The latter were more than likely the ones working for Greer.  He made a mental note of each member of this group for they more than likely knew who their employer actually was.  
  
Finch was already performing searches on the employees, but to be safe he had sent photos to be compared with the photos of each employee that was on file.  
  
To his surprise, an unmarked delivery truck pulls out of the security company.  "That's interesting."  He snaps a picture of the license plate and sends it to Finch, before tapping his earpiece.  "Just sent you a picture of license plate from a delivery truck leaving the Green Arum security building."  
  
He starts his vehicle and proceeds to follow the truck but at a distance.  "I'm following the truck and yes Finch I'm being careful."     
  
✶✶✶  
  
Finch is typing quickly on one computer as another monitor has page after page of information pertaining to the employees of Green Arum opening.  "I'm glad to see you showing some restraint Mr. Reese."  
  
Over the monitor speakers, _"Well I have a feeling…."_ has Finch pausing his typing as he remembers the same comment he had made to Reese, _"that this truck is going to lead us to the other servers."_  
  
"I hope so Mr. Reese."  
  
 _"Anything from the fiercesome twosome?"_  
  
He coughs to cover the slight chuckle that was almost audible from Reese's very adequate description of Root and Shaw.  "If you're referring to Ms. Groves and Ms. Shaw, then no I have not.  Unless you're referring to Detective's Riley and Fusco?"  
  
A rarely heard laugh from Reese has Finch smiling.  _"Fusco and I have nothing on those two."_  
  
"I would have to agree Mr. Reese."  A beep from another monitor has him turning in his chair to see the tracking information for the truck Reese is following.  "Mr. Reese, it seems that the truck you're following made two stops in its way to Montauk."  
  
 _"Let me guess, cities that have large ports."_  
  
Finch is typing on the keyboard, "You would be correct.  One was in Baltimore and the other was in Philadelphia."  
  
 _"And do we know what was picked up?"_  
  
"Not yet."  
  
 _"You might want to check all the ports across the country."_  
  
Finch stops typing and turns sideways at the implications of what Reese was suggesting.  "You think…."  
  
 _"Don't know Finch.  But if I was Greer, I would want as many new servers from as many different areas of the country as possible and still stay under the radar."_  
  
"And by removing servers from quarantined shipments, it would slow down the report of their disappearance."  
  
 _"And lessen the chance of the remaining trucks being compromised if one was stopped."_  
  
Finch begins typing, sending out a query for any information on shipping containers that had recently been quarantined.  He expands his search to include the ports in Canada as well as those along the Great Lakes.  
  
He is rapidly sifting through pages when three new pages appear on the screen.  His eyebrows raise at what he is reading.  "Now that is interesting."  
  
 _"Find something?"_  
  
"Yes.  There have been a total of one hundred containers quarantined.  Of those, thirty, according to the manifests, contained servers destined for all over the world."  He resumes typing.  "I'm sending a message to our friend suggesting that all of those containers need to be searched."  
  
 _"Seems our delivery truck is making a stop."_  
  
"Where?"  
  
 _"A tourist information building for Montauk Point State Park, Camp Hero State Park and the Montauk Point Lighthouse.  You have anything on this part of Long Island?"_  
  
"I'm running searches now.  Be careful Mr. Reese.  Samaritan and Greer may be down but they are still extremely dangerous."  
  
 _"Understood Finch."_  
  
Finch ignores the ending of the call as the information for that part of Long Island appears on the screen.  One part in particular has him looking away from the computer and then back.  He begins another search focusing just on that piece of information and what he is finding has him muttering, "Oh my."  
  
✶✶✶  
  
The area around the warehouse is swarmed by the sudden appearance of multiple black SUV's that are rapidly filling the area.  Doors open allowing men and women in full combat gear to emerge.  They quickly secure the area around the warehouse as a large contingent enters through one of the doors.  
  
Bodil retreats further into the darkness of her observation point as she watches the beehive of activity.  She furrows her brows at the unexpected arrival of the blatantly obvious government agents.  Greer had given no indication that there was to be a government raid tonight.  A momentary thought flashes through her mind that perhaps this was Greer's attempt to get rid of her.  But quickly dismisses the notion as neither was through using the other.  Until she took care of the Butcher, she needed Greer and he needed her for the removal of an irritating complication.  No this was simply a change in her plans.  
  
Her only reaction to this change, is the tightening of her jaw.  Oleg had taught her to never have a plan that wasn't fluid enough to change according to the circumstances that arose.  He stressed, "Most individuals react exactly how you expect them to react but their will always be those that never react in the way you would expect them to.  And those are the most dangerous to deal with."  
  
Another SUV pulls up and a woman gets out and instantly one of the agents is beside her.  From the way the other agents are reacting to this woman, she must be the one in charge.  
  
Intrigued, Bodil watches her when suddenly she turns and seems to be looking directly at Bodil.  She continues to stare at the shadows, seemingly aware that someone was watching, before a slight smirk appears on her face.  She turns and enters the warehouse but not without one last glance over her shoulder towards Bodil's hiding place.  
  
Bodil releases the breath she didn't even realize that she had been holding.  Oleg had been right, this woman did not react in any way that could have been expected.  She would have to be extremely careful anytime this woman was in the vicinity.  
  
Now the normal response to the possibility that you had been exposed was to move to a new observation spot or to leave all together.  Bodil did neither.  She had taken great care to learn the area and had a number of possible escape routes.  So she settled in to watch the warehouse the woman had entered as well as the close by firehouse where the Detective and the other man lay in bloody heaps.  
  
✶✶✶  
  
Sitting on the dining room table are the contents of the packages that had been delivered earlier in the day to the bungalow.  There are various automatics, knives, boxes of ammo, extra magazines, lap tops and a medical kit that any EMT would have been ecstatic to be able to use in the field.  
  
"She sent this?"  
  
"Yeah."  Sameen walks to the table and reaches into one of the packages.  She removes a box, turns and hands it to Root.  "This is for you."  
  
Her breath catches at the smile on Root's face that was equal to that of a child on christmas morning getting a present they never expected.  "Sameen, you shouldn't have."  
  
Sameen starts to pull the box back.  "If you don't…." The box is snatched out of her hand and opened before she can even finish her comment.  She takes a step back as Root looks at the contents of the box and then at Sameen.  "Sweetie, are you trying to tell me something?"  
  
Sameen rolls her eyes, "No."  
  
"Really?"  She looks again at the contents of the box before tilting her head to one side, studying Sameen, before again looking at the contents of the box.  "Because to me, this," she shakes the box, "means you want to re-enact," she looks up again in full perky psycho persona, "one of our previous meetings."  
  
Sameen starts to retort, pauses and nods her head.  "I do.  I just can't decide which one."  She reaches out and picks up her favorite nano and holds it up for Root to see. "This reminds me when I shot you the first time."  She sets the nano down and lifts her hand,  "Or how about when I saved you," makes a fist, "from those two vigilance gunmen?  That had to have been one of the most satisfying punches I've ever thrown."  She looks around, "Unfortunately there's not a Faraday cage nearby for me to drag you into."  
  
Root shudders slightly as she remembers vividly Sameen's fist colliding with her jaw.  "It's a shame the library was lost.  I would have enjoyed being locked in the Faraday with you.  And then we could have used this."  She removes a taser from the box and activates it.  The small taser is one of the most powerful on the market but it pales in comparison to the electricity that has been arcing between Root and Sameen from the moment they first meet.  
  
"We have the zip ties.  It's to bad there isn't an iron and then we could have really re-enacted our first meeting."  
  
"You have to admit," Root's eyes sparkle at the memory, "it was memorable."  
  
Sameen studies Root before stating, "I'm hungry."  She turns and starts to walk out of the room.  
  
"Sameen?"  
  
Sameen spins on her heel and resumes slowly walking backwards, "Yeah?"  
  
"Where are you going?"  
  
A smile that still shook Root to her core, and she hoped it always would, softened the tension that normally exists on Sameen's face.  "To get something to eat.  For some reason I'm starved.  It must be from all the talking." Her smile remains but her gaze turns heated as it travels up and down the length of Root's body.  And just before she disappears into the kitchen, her voice drops to that husky timbre that always sends a shiver of arousal through Root as she says, "and the other strenuous activities I've been doing so much of lately."  
  
The look of amazement from Sameen's heated quip slowly transforms into a smile that reaches far deeper than just Root's eyes.  It reflects the pure happiness that has been so cathartic that it is healing her badly damaged soul.  Never in all of her years, especially after the loss of Hanna, did she ever expect to find, not that she was actually looking, her other half.  And more astonishing was that it was in the form of a former ISA agent with an axis II personality disorder, that she threatened to torture the first time they meant, that shredded, without even trying, all of her defenses with ease.  
  
She knew, without asking, that Sameen felt the same way.  And how could she know this, it was really very simple.  It was in the plan Sameen had helped to create with Her, all to save Root.  It was in the way Sameen opened up and talked about her past with absolutely no hesitation.  It was in the way she stormed through, and refused to allow the dark thoughts, that swirled around Root, to get entrenched.  It was in every loving and so very healing touch, every gesture, every look and every word, that told Root that what she felt was not one-sided.  
  
Some would say it was fate, that it was written in the stars that they were to meet.  Any belief in fate, she might have had, had been ripped away with Hanna's disappearance.  What she had come to believe in, besides herself, was Harold and in Her.  She even believed in Reese and Fusco.  But what she believed in the most, what she trusted whole-heartedly and without any qualms, was Sameen Shaw.  
  
She starts towards the kitchen when she hears, "Don't forget the taser," has her throwing her head back in laughter as she tosses the taser in the air and easily catches it.  "Coming sweetie."  She almost skips out of the room, because like Sameen she was hungry and not just for food.  
  
  
  
  
TBC  
  
  



	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9  
  
_Oslo, Norway_  
_2010_  
  
_In the shadows of a building Hávarðr stands across from the main terminal in Oslo, studying the cafe and everyone that has either passed by or entered.  There have been a few that were obviously waiting for someone, but they were easy to spot even without Oleg's training._  
  
_The group of university students were boisterous but careful not to intrude on the space of others.  He chuckled at the myriad of reactions that these students were creating.  There was a couple that were, obviously, very happy to be married but their frequent glances, revealed that a part of them were aching to relive the carefree times from when they were students._  
  
_There were the obvious tourists, sitting in the cafe reading their guide books or pulling out a thick file that, without even seeing the contents, Hávarðr knew it contained detailed information about where to go and what to see.  These were the tourists that were so regimented that they had a time table for how long they visited each sight.  And if their time table was interrupted, even by a few minutes, they couldn't handle the changes.  These were the most annoying tourists and were usually the ones that acted like they knew everything and never hesitated in telling the locals they were incorrect about their local history._  
  
_He watches, studying everyone and yet, no one stood out.  But then did he really expect Radicle to be holding up a sign that says,_ **If you're looking for Radicle, then that would be me.** _That would be like him wearing a t-shirt that says,_ I **'m Thor the best hacker in the world and you've never heard of me.**  
  
_He starts towards the cafe, when he reverses course and steps back into the shadows.  He and Bodil had a self preservation sense that had served them well long before Oleg had taken them under his tutelage.  And this sudden feeling that, other than the CCTV, he was being watched.  The busy terminal is a perfect place to blend in and observe someone without them knowing.  Only three people know that he is Thor and two of those he trusts with his life._  
  
_A slight shake of his head is his only acknowledgement to his unknown watcher.  Still, he was Thor and whoever was watching was going to learn just how good he was.  He takes out a cell that looks like any other phone until certain apps were activated in a certain order.  What appeared on his screen was a program that every government in the world would have loved to have access to and in fact the rumors, both on the net and the dark net, of a similar program is one of the many programs that he and Bodil had been searching for._  
  
_His eyes widen in surprise when a message appears._  
  
**_I thought the mighty Thor fears no one._**  
  
_He looks around before typing, 'Cautious is not fear.'_  
  
**_It is far easier to hide behind the code than it is to reveal one's self._**  
  
_'Then why is the great Radicle, revealing themselves?'_  
  
**_Find me and I'll answer that question._**  
  
_Hávarðr chuckles as all of the text messages dissolve as if they had never existed.  He accesses another program that backtracks the vague and quickly disappearing trail from Radicle.  A beep brings a smile to his face, "Gotcha."_  
  
_He plugs in ear buds, so that he can blend in but also so no one will hear the directions that his phone is giving him.  He takes a breath before emerging from the shadows and makes his way through the bustling crowd towards the cafe._  
  
_He enters, places an order and while waiting, glances around the cafe looking for a free table or even a free chair.  A beep has him smiling before turning to take his order._  
  
_The heady aroma of chocolate and nutmeg has him inhaling deeply.  It's an odd combination but it reminds him of the first time he had ever had hot chocolate and the wondrous thought that he didn't have to share it with anyone._  
  
_He walks over to a table where a woman with brunette hair and wearing glasses, sits drinking a cup of coffee.  A dogeared book rests under the restless fingertips of her right hand._  
  
_He waits for her to look up before nodding towards the empty seat, "May I?"_  
  
_She studies him before closing the book, "Of course."_  
  
_He sits down at the table and waits for her to look at him.  He smiles, then nods toward the book, Sophie's World by Josteen Gaarder, "Must be a favorite?"_  
  
_Her head tilts to one side.  "And why would you say that?"_  
  
_"A great many things."_  
  
_Her slender fingers stop moving over the cover.  "Such as?"_  
  
_"The pages are dogeared and various passages have been highlighted."_  
  
_The brunette tilts her head to one side as she studies him, "I could have picked it up in a second hand bookstore as it is."_  
  
_"You could have, but I doubt it."_  
  
_"Perhaps I simply like a good story."_  
  
_"Or you see all of the governments in the world as Albert Knag."_  
  
_"Do you?"_  
  
_"Giving anyone one person, organization or a government god-like powers, is the apocalypse waiting to happen."  He takes a sip of his hot chocolate before adding, "After all isn't that why you sent out the program.  To find like minded individuals….Radicle?"_  
  
_The brunette's eyes narrow in confusion and innocence, "Should I know what you're talking about?"_  
  
_He chuckles at her very innocent reaction, which would have worked on most people but Oleg had trained them to spot even the best of liars.  Though there was a part of him that was believing that she wasn't the hacker known as Radicle.  "I could almost believe that you truly don't know what I'm talking about if it wasn't for…."  He slowly lifts the cup of hot chocolate and takes a slow but long drink._  
  
_"Wasn't for what?"  Her eyes drop to the table top where his left hand begins taping.  A dash, four dots, three dashes then a dot, a dash and a dot.  He repeats the movements until the brunette chuckles.  "Touche.  But you're taking a risk meeting me."_  
  
_"Really?  I'm simply having a delicious," he holds up his drink, "cup of hot chocolate with nutmeg.  Discussing a book on philosophy where the mysterious Albert Knag appears to have god-like powers.   Nothing suspicious in that."_  
  
_"And if someone was to steal your phone?"_  
  
_Hávarðr reaches into his pocket and hands his phone to Radicle.  "It's simply a phone that I use to keep connected with friends."_  
  
_Radicle smiles and leans across the table.  "We both know that your phone is far beyond the ordinary."  She unlocks the phone and begins accessing apps until the program that Hávarðr had used to track her, appears on the screen.  She spins the phone around so he can see what she has accessed.  "Ingenious really.  The program is unseen until certain apps in a certain order are opened.  And only then does the tracking program become active.  Of course the person you're tracking has no idea that you're tracking them."_  
  
_Hávarðr barely keeps the hot chocolate from spilling when his cup clanks on the table top from the surprise and shock at the ease Radicle accessed his tracking program.  "How?"_  
  
_Radicle laughs, "We all have our secrets."_  
  
_A twinkle appears in Hávarðr's eyes at finally meeting his hacker/coding twin.  Bodil was accomplished in her own way, but compared to Radicle, his sister was a talented novice.  "It seems we have quite a bit in common.  I enjoy finding the secrets that seem to be so well hidden.  Or tracking down rumors that seem merely little bytes of random data.  Until…"_  
  
_"Until you realize that they are part of a far greater puzzle."_  
  
_The smile that appears on Hávarðr is the same one that Radicle has when an intricate puzzle that has seems to be unsolvable begins to hint at a solution.  Thor's tracking of the same rumors is what had brought about this meeting.  She knew of Thor's online work and had kept track.  It took a lot to impress her, but Thor was everything she had hoped he would be.  And together, they would be able to track the rumor of an AI that was being developed that, if true could, no it would change mankind.  Whether this change was for the good or the bad, she didn't have enough information to make that decision.  But the mere thought of that powerful of an AI in the wrong hands, she shudders at what could happen._  
  
_Radicle lifts her coffee cup and waits for Hávarðr to lift his.  "This is going to be very interesting collaboration."_  
  
  
✶✶✶  
  
Present day  
  
Fusco barely recognizes the occasional soft sound of footsteps in the old firehouse.  But he knows they are coming towards him and somehow, despite the pain that's wracking through his body with every breath he takes, his bloody fingers grasp his cell phone.  
  
A hand encompasses his before he can pick up the cell.  "There's no need for that Detective."  
  
A wheezy, "Elias?"  
  
"Yes, Detective."  
  
"How?"  
  
"That is a discussion for another time.  But for now lets get you out of here."  
  
The sound of more soft footsteps are followed by a stretcher being placed on the ground behind Fusco.  Gentle hands roll him over onto the stretcher.  Fusco moans as the needle of a syringe pierces his arm.  "What was that?"  
  
"A pain killer Detective.  Nothing more I promise you."  
  
"And George?"  
  
Another of Elias' men checks on George, then looks at Elias and shakes his head.  
  
"I'm sorry.  But there's nothing we can do for him."  
  
A man approaches Elias and whispers in his ear.  "I want her movements reported.  No one is to make a move unless they hear from me."  The man nods and disappears into the darkness of the firehouse.  
  
A slurred, "Elias?"  
  
"Yes Detective?"  
  
"Thanks."  
  
"No thanks are necessary, Detective.  There remains a debt, one that can never truly be repaid."  
  
"Carter?"  
  
"Yes."  Two moving trucks quietly enter the firehouse.  "My apologies Detective on the less than ideal transportation.  But considering the circumstances, stealth was needed."  The rear doors open on both trucks, Fusco's stretcher is lifted up and placed inside one.  George's body has been placed in a body bag and lifted into the other truck.  
  
Elias opens the battery compartment of Fusco's cell and chuckles at the old fashioned tracking device he finds.  "Sometimes the old ways work far better."  He removes a handkerchief from his coat and lays it on the floor.  It stands out like a beacon in the dusty and grimy old building which is exactly what he intended.  He removes the tracker and places it on the handkerchief before standing and climbing into the truck with Fusco's stretcher.  The doors close behind him.  The trucks exit the firehouse followed by Fusco's unmarked car.  
  
The only clues to what had taken place are a couple of pools of blood, disturbed dust, tire tracks and amid all of that, a beacon that is the white handkerchief.  
  
✶✶✶  
  
Reese enters the tourist information building.  He walks over to the various pamphlets and selects a map that shows the various hiking trails around the lighthouse.  He also picks up a book dealing with the history of the Montauk Air Force Station that is now owned by the New York State Parks.  He taps his com.  "Finch, I think I know where we need to look?"  
  
_"The old Montauk Air Force Station."_  
  
Reese leafs through the book and stops at the section dealing with the vast underground tunnels and storage areas.  "What better place to hide than in an old Air Force Station.  
  
_"And according to my information, there are still areas that have restricted access."_  
  
"So anyone with New York State Park credentials wouldn't seem out of place."  
  
_"Yes.  And the storage facility that was bought by Green Arum is the perfect cover to move items in and out of the Park without raising suspicions."_  
  
"Seems I'm going to a State Park.  Anything from Shaw and Root?"  
  
_"No.  But I will be calling them to bring them up to date."_  
  
"Can you relay a message for me?"  If Finch could have seen the unexpected smirk on Reese's face, he would have immediately turned off his computers, his cell, grabbed Bear and left the subway station.  But he can't, which is why Reese is taking advantage of the situation.  _"Of course Mr. Reese."_ Shaw has teased him mercilessly about Kara,  Zoe and especially Iris.  Now it's his turn.  "Tell Shaw, she is not choosing Bear to be her best man.  Ring bearer, yes, but not her Best Man."  
  
In the ensuing silence, he can image Harold sitting back in his chair, eyes wide open as he looks at his computer, Bear and around the subway as he tries to absorb the, at one time completely implausible, idea of Root and Shaw getting married.  
  
His concern lasts as long as a sandwich, loaded with all the extras including meat, does in front of a ravenous Shaw.  In other words, not very long at all. _"What if Ms. Groves were to ask you to be her Best Man?"_  
  
"She more than likely would choose you.  She respects you."  
  
The amusement in Finch's voice is nothing more than a slight inflection but after all this time, Reese has learned to listen between what Finch is saying and the silence.  So he would swear that he heard Finch softly chuckling at the idea of Root and Shaw marrying.  _"Perhaps.  But there are a number of options we are forgetting."_  
  
"And they would be?"  
  
_"They could elope."_  
  
"Don't see Root eloping.  Shaw yes, Root no."  
  
_"Or one of them could ask Detective Fusco to stand with them."_  
  
"That would be interesting.  Speaking of Lionel, have you heard from him?"  
  
The amusement from imagining Root and Shaw marrying is quickly replaced by the mission they are on.  _"I have not.  Our friend has secured the warehouses along the East River.  It seems MID ACE was storing many of the salvaged parts from the remnants of Samaritan's compound."_  
  
"Why?  From what I saw, there was very little that could be retrieved."  
  
_"Detective Fusco suggested that this may be nothing more than…"_  
  
"A diversion."  Reese looks out the window as the truck he has been following pulls out of the parking lot.  "Our friend is on the move."  
  
_"Be careful Mr. Reese.  Greer may be down, but he has proven over time to be a very resourceful man."_  
  
"Understood Harold."  Reese taps his com ending the conversation as he exits the building.  
  
As the door closes, a man steps out from another room.  He walks over to the window and observes Reese's vehicle exiting the parking area, headed towards the former air force base.  He pulls out a cell phone, dials a number and when it's answered simply says, " Delivery yellow…one man."  He ends the call and disappears back into the other room.  
  
✶✶✶  
  
A disheveled and out of breath Root collapses against an equally bedraggled Shaw.  She smiles against the sweaty skin that reminds her that what is happening in the bungalow isn't a dream.  She finally feels at peace with herself and that is something she never thought she would ever feel.  She had accepted after Hanna, that being alone was her fate until she opened the hotel room door and encountered Sameen Shaw.  
  
A gentle smack to the back of her head has her shifting until she can see brown eyes glaring back at her.  "You're doing it again."  
  
She glances down to find her hand gently cupping a breast.  Her hand tightens and she smirks at the indrawn breath and the sudden rise of the body beneath her.  "So you're ready for another round?"  
  
To her surprise, a hand grasps the one on Sameen's breast and stops all of its movement.  "I'm always up for another round but that's not what I meant."  The pout that graces Root's lips, that she knows Sameen can't resist, works so well that she suddenly finds herself staring up at the ceiling.  Her eyes are sparkling for so many reasons that she can't even begin to list them but the primary would be the dynamo that rests on top of her.  "Sweetie, I so enjoy it when you take control."  
  
The smile that appears from her simple statement would stun anyone that had once known the closed off and emotionless Sameen Shaw.  But this woman, who had finally turned up the volume on her emotions, was Root's.  She had moved heaven and earth to get her back from…her thoughts are derailed by soft lips on her own lips.  She gets lost in the gentle caress and actually whimpers when Sameen slowly ends the kiss.  
  
"Root?"  
  
"Yes, sweetie."  
  
"Would you stop thinking so much."  Is followed by a slap against her hip that has Root's eyes widening in surprise and then a burst of laughter that soon has Sameen chuckling.  
  
"So you just want me for my brain."  Root stops laughing to ponder that thought, then nods her head, "Okay I can work with that."  
  
"Yeah Root, I only want your brain.  And I want to keep it…."  
  
"Aww you want to keep me."  
  
Sameen's classic eye roll brings a full blown smile to Root, "Would you let me finish."  
  
Before she can utter another word, Root grasps Sameen's cheeks and stares deep into her eyes.  "I never want us to be finished."  The shrill of a cell phone breaks the moment but both women know this conversation is far from over.  
  
Sameen snatches her cell, while never breaking eye contact with Root.  She answers with a terse, "What?"  She rolls her eyes and puts the phone on speaker.  
  
_"Ms Shaw, I assume Ms. Groves is nearby."_  
  
"Hi Harry."  
  
_"Ms. Groves.  I have news…"_  
  
"About Samaritan?"  
  
_"Yes.  And about the Machine."_  
  
Root watches as Sameen stands and begins to do a reverse strip by covering the skin that she yearns to feel sliding against her.  "She's back."  
  
_"Then you have already been in contact."_  
  
"Only to know that She survived."  
  
Sameen's eyes snap towards Root when she hears the slightest of hitches in the hacker's voice.  Root was still irked that She had waited so long to inform her analog interface of Her survival.  
  
_"Mr. Reese is following a truck with servers that were diverted from an overseas shipment."_  
  
"Does he know where they're going?"  
  
_"We believe to an abandoned Air Force Base near Montauk."_  
  
Sameen and Root have matching looks of shock.  That base, which is now part of the New York State Park Service is close by.  In fact at night, the beacon from the lighthouse could be seen from the tallest of the dunes surrounding the bungalow.  
  
But what's more jarring to both women is the realization of why this particular bungalow, in this particular location was arranged.  It was to give Root and Sameen time to heal but it put them right where they would be needed when She deemed it was time to use her assets.  
  
Shaw's stiff, "I know where it is," is the most emotion she is willing to let Finch hear.  
  
_"How Ms. Shaw?"_  
  
Sameen shrugs her shoulders at Root's questioning look, "Part of a training exercise.  A simple shake of her head has the hacker nodding in response.  They would talk after this conversation with Finch was concluded.  
  
_"I'm sending you a map of the base."_  
  
"Anything else we need to know about?"  
  
_"Our friend is investigating other shipping containers that have been quarantined.  All, according to their manifests, contain servers."_  
  
"We'll contact Reese when we get to the base."  
  
_Ms. Groves… It's good..."_  
  
Root understands what Harold is trying to say and interrupts with a, "I know and thanks Harry."  
  
_"Of course.  Oh Ms. Shaw, Mr. Reese wanted me to tell you that you are not choosing Bear to be your best man.  Ring bearer, yes, but not Best Man."_  
  
Lost in the context of the comment, Root and Shaw fail to hear the slight chuckle from Finch as he ends the phone call.  Eyes wide open, Root stares at Shaw.  "You talked to Reese about being your best man?"  
  
"No."  Root is enjoying the blush that is rapidly staining Shaw's features.  She chuckles at the softly worded, "Reese is dead when I see him."  
  
"Then you wouldn't have a best man."  
  
An exasperated, "Root!," is followed by Shaw storming out of the room muttering to herself about how Reese is going to regret ever asking Finch to forward that message.  Root starts to follow and then stops.  She contemplates what at first seems to be a typical rebuff until she remembers every story, every reminiscence that flowed unchecked during the first week at the bungalow as Sameen tried everything, including stepping or rather jumping out of her comfort zone, to bring Root out of her depression from the loss of Her.  
  
Her head tilts to one side as she considers the many options available to her.  Some, before Samaritan, before Her, before Sameen, she would never have hesitated in implementing.  Now…now everything has changed all because of a determined, and yet totally unaware of what she was doing, Persian bulldozer that had destroyed the walls, some she didn't even realize she had, around her heart and her soul with ease.  
  
The subtle, and I mean subtle, change had begun that day when she had opened the door to find former ISA Agent Sameen Shaw standing in the hallway.  Subconsciously,  it had taken every ounce of strength she had to not only close the door but to begin breathing again.  And those feelings continued to grow.  
  
Sameen reiterated that she didn't do relationships but the evidence proved they had been in a relationship from the beginning.  Their hearts knew, their subconscious knew, Reese, Finch and even Fusco knew.  The Machine had computed the truth of their relationship, otherwise She wouldn't have arranged for the bungalow.

It just took a while for them to consciously become aware of their relationship.  And of all places for that to happen, it was the kiss in the elevator, and Sameen's sacrifice, for the veil of blindness to be ripped away.  
  
The question is what does she want?  She had, honestly, never entertained the idea of marriage.  And now, well she had proved she'd go to hell and back just for the chance to get lost in the complex person of one Sameen Shaw.  
  
Decision made, she smiles.  For once she is not going to tease Sameen.  She's not going to push the issue or make comments or manipulate the outcome to what she wants.  Okay maybe a little manipulation is in order.  After all she wouldn't be Root if there wasn't some manipulation.  Although from Sameen's reaction, she wasn't sure any manipulation was needed.  This is going to be very interesting.  
  
An exasperated, "Root!," has her chuckling as she walks toward the door and stops as she suddenly realizes she isn't dressed.  "Be there in a bit sweetie."  Shaking her head in amusement, she quickly pulls on clothes and exits the bedroom.  
  
✶✶✶  
  
Bodil pulls further into the shadows of her observation point content to watch the Feds search the warehouses.  Her shoulders twitch as if someone is watching her.  She looks around and once again finds the woman in charge looking in her direction and smiling as if she knew exactly where Bodil was watching from.  
  
Now normally this wouldn't bother Bodil, but for some reason this woman's actions did.  Her self preservation instinct, that had protected her and Hávarðr when they were on their own, was screaming at her to move, so she does.  She takes this as a sign to check and see if her trap had brought the butcher out of hiding.  
  
Moving quietly towards the old firehouse, she pauses to listen for anything out of the ordinary.  As she enters she comes to a complete stop at the realization that her bait is gone.  So is his car and the body of the other man.  
  
Listening and hearing nothing, she takes out her cell and activates an app.  The confusion on her face was easy to see if there had been anyone close by.  According to the app, the tracking device she had placed in Fusco's phone was still in the old firehouse.  
  
Looking around, she finally notices the white beacon.  Carefully she approaches and looks down at the one thing sitting on the handkerchief, the tracking device.  The trap had been well planned and yet she had nothing to show for it.  She had not only underestimated the resourcefulness of the Butcher, but had also allowed herself to be distracted by the woman at the warehouse.  This she vowed would never happen again.  She had learned from this encounter and would use this knowledge to her advantage.  
  
Perhaps the Butcher and that woman were working together.  That would explain why the woman seemed to know exactly where Bodil was.  If so, she was simply another impediment that would not deter her from the mission of making the Butcher pay.  Her retribution for Hávarðr's death would happen, just not today.  She takes a calming breath before quietly exiting the firehouse.  
  
✶✶✶  
  
Greer enters the new server room and takes a moment to studying the various lights on the multitude of servers that serve his god.  Soon a new shipment would be arriving and once the system checks were concluded, the new plan to release Samaritan upon the world would begin.  
  
The battle with the Machine, while a set back was also very informative.  There would not be a repeat of Ms. Groves insidious plan that had almost destroyed Samaritan.  His countermeasures included the isolation of specific servers that were set up to scan and evaluate any technology or outside programs that had been captured or found.  He had also created a room where, if Ms. Groves were to ever enjoy his hospitality again, she would not be able to access Samaritan in any form.  No, he had underestimated her and that was not acceptable.  It is fortunate that he is the one in charge for if it had been anyone else making these costly blunders, they would have already been replaced.  Yes, being in charge does have its rewards.  
  
Perhaps Bodil would succeed in eliminating Ms. Groves, but if she was successful, though he doubted she would be, her reward would be the wrath of Shaw.  He had seen the remnants of his security forces encounters with Bodil and could imagine the bloody aftermath of Shaw unleashing her anger on the person responsible if anything were to happen to Ms. Groves.  
  
Though Ms. Groves had proven herself to be just as determined in her relentless pursuit to find Ms. Shaw.  And Greer had to wonder what the outcome would be if Bodil was forced to fight an enraged Ms. Groves.  
  
A hesitant, "Sir?" interrupts Greer's thoughts.  He turns to find on of the technicians nervously standing nearby.  "Have the system checks been completed?"  
  
"Mostly."  
  
Greer steps closer to the nervous technician, "Mostly is not acceptable.  Either it is completed or it is not.  Now which is it?"  
  
The Technician swallows heavily, "It's not…."  
  
"Then you are wasting my time."  Greer turns to leave but stops at the hastily said, "The program has asked for you."  
  
Greer spins on his heel and heads for the main control room.  His god was asking for him and who was he to deny his god.  
  
TBC  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10  
  
Harold has a number of searches working when his phone rings.  He glances at the caller ID and releases a breath before answering.  "Detective Fusco, I was beginning to wonder…."  
  
 _"I'm sorry Harold, but the Detective isn't quite up to talking at the moment."_  
  
Harold's eyes widen at hearing a voice he had never expected to hear, "Elias'"  
  
 _"Yes, Harold."_  
  
"And how did you…"  
  
 _"Come into procession of the Detective's phone...as well as the Detective?"_  
  
Harold begins a trace on the phone.  "Yes."  
  
 _"Simply doing my civic duty."_  
  
"And what exactly did your civic duty entail?"  Harold hears a soft chuckle coming through the speaker of the phone.  
  
 _"My civic duty," chuckles are heard through the speaker, "I've found that it's rather fluid."_  
  
"I would assume that your version of civic duty depends on the situation."  
  
 _"Indeed it does.  I've found that if you remain, shall we say stagnant, that you will fail to see the changes that are coming."_  
  
"If there is one thing I can say for sure Elias, is that you are far from being stagnant."  
  
 _"Thank you Harold."_  
  
"And how did you come to have Detective Fusco's phone?"  
  
The amusement in Elias' voice is easily heard.  _"That's what's interesting.  A text message was sent to me."_  
  
"And you normally respond to text messages?"  
  
 _"I don't and yet the sending of this message is what is so intriguing?"_  
  
Harold checks the trace that seems to be taking far longer than it should.  "Intriguing how may I ask?"  
  
 _"The problem is only three people know the existence of that number and one of those is dead."_  
  
"The number of the sender?"  
  
 _"Unknown."_  
  
"And the message?"  
  
 _"It was an address and that an injured friend needed assistance.  So you can imagine my surprise when I discover the Detective as well as a dead body."_  
  
"George.  He was a CI for Detective Fusco."  
  
 _"My colleague's will make his death appear to be nothing more than a car accident.  As for the Detective, one of my associates is tending to his injuries."_  
  
"Thank you.  Elias…why?"  Harold wonders if Elias has ended the call when a voice softened by remorse.  
  
 _"As I told the Detective, there remains a debt, one that can never truly be repaid."_  
  
"Carter."  
  
 _"Yes.  She had a far greater effect than I think even she realized."_  
  
Harold smiles in remembrance of his late friend, "She did indeed."  
  
 _"I have men watching the warehouse as well as the woman I believe was responsible for the Detective's injuries.  Any information will be forwarded to you."_  
  
"Thank you Elias."  
  
 _"People sometimes find their paths in the strangest of ways."_  
  
Harold blinks, looks around the subway before looking at Bear.  "Indeed."  Harold hears muted noises in the background before Elias speaks.  _"My apologies Harold, but I must be going."_  
  
"Elias?"  
  
 _"Yes?"_  
  
"We have a mutual associate that is on the way to the old Montauk Air Force Base…"  
  
 _"An interesting place with a great number of secrets."_  
  
"Yes.  And knowledge is the most valuable of commodities."  
  
 _"Indeed it is."_  
  
The click of the call ending has Harold staring at the phone before turning to Bear and chuckling.  "I wonder what my father would have thought about the wide ranging acquaintances and friends I have."  Bear lays his head on Harold's leg, who absentmindedly scratches his head.  "He would have enjoyed the simple fact that I have friends."  He glances around the subway that many would see as sterile but what he saw, what he felt was the friendships that were forged in fear, in desperation, in determination, in blood and most importantly, from love.  
  
The computers and the various parts that were strewn on the work bench reminded him of Root and how she interchanged whatever part of herself she needed to survive.  There was no argument that she was very successful in what she did.   
  
He shakes his head at the memory of when Root, as Caroline Turing, had ordered a hit on herself simply as a means to gather intel on Her.  
  
He had told Root, when she had kidnapped him, that he wasn't on any side.  And, at the time, it was true.  He may have disagreed with Root's actions but when Denton Weeks tried to kill him after revealing that the Machine couldn't be accessed remotely, he began to question his own outlook.  In retrospect, he had been rather naive in believing that he would never have to choose sides.  That he could remain in the shadows protecting the numbers that were deemed irrelevant.  
  
History has proven that even the best of intentions are easily swayed by the belief that everything, whether seen as good or bad, is simply being done to protect the citizens.  
  
As a result, he had been forced to choose a side.  As Elias had stated, "People sometimes find their paths in the strangest of ways."  
  
He stands and slowly walks over to the subway car and looks at one of the many lockers, that Reese and Shaw have strategically located, that even the best armed Tac teams would have been itching to have access to.  He knew Reese and Shaw had other lockers located all over the city incase the need for more firepower was needed.  
  
He chuckles at the memory of Shaw salivating over the prototype rifle that Elias had sent when they stormed Samaritan's stronghold.  He tilts his head to one side as he considers the destruction that Root had wrought in her determination to find Shaw and wondered how much worse the devastation would have been if it had been Shaw searching for Root.  
  
During the darkest of days when he was questioning the choices he had made, he had come across a random quote that seemed to entail what he was needing to validate his actions.  **"You ask for signs in your life, but what you get is more like a confirmation:  You are where you need to be.  Just take a deep breath."**   And that is exactly what he had done.  
  
And the reward for following such a simple and yet deceptively complex idea was a group of friends that had beaten the odds and brought down not only Decima and its many government contracts but also had forced Samaritan into a form of electronic hibernation.  The lives lost though expected, hurt non the less.  Each lost life reminded him of why they continued to fight and why in the darkest of days they had never given up.  
  
The current version of Samaritan could never be completely defeated.  Greer, who more than likely had backup versions securely stored, and others like him would find a way to build or steal some version of an AI.   As long as there were people like Greer and those in business or the Government that saw the human race as nothing more than pawns in a chess match, then this fight would never truly be over for one simple reason: Pandora's box had been opened.  
  
✶✶✶  
  
 _Oslo, Norway_  
 _2010_  
  
 _The hotel room door opens and a hooded figure, wearing gloves and a duffle bag slung over a shoulder, slips into the room.  The figure quickly inspects the room and finds it empty.  The duffle bag is tossed onto the bed before the door to the balcony is opened allowing the smells of the train station and the city to merge with the air conditioner air of the room._  
  
 _Tanned skin, dark eyes and black hair, of a woman, emerges from the depths of the hood.  The hooded figure taps their ear and begins talking, "Room's secure."_  
  
 _The duffle bag is opened, revealing the various components of a sniper rifle as well as a silencer and a small tripod.  The rifle is quickly assembled and set down on the nearby table to keep any stray pieces of bedding or lint from lodging themselves within the rifles mechanism._  
  
 _She steps out onto the balcony and casually looks around as if she was nothing more than a tourist taking in the sights and part of that was true.  She was taking in the sights but she was studying them for avenues of escape as well as possible choke points.  Satisfied, she returns to the room, grabs the rifle and attaches it to the tripod before stretching out on the floor in the perfect sniper position._  
  
 _Now she had chosen this particular room and hotel for a number of reasons.  The foremost would be the many escape routes that this location provided.  But it also provided a multitude of firing locations that would impede the effectiveness of the authorities in determining where the shot or shots were coming from._  
  
 _She taps her ear, "I'm in position.  Acquiring target."  She peers through the scope studying the people that are walking in the square that are blissfully unaware of her deadly presence.  A reflection of light has her lifting her head, her eyes narrowing in thought, knowing that that wasn't a normal reflection off of a window but the reflection off of a sniper scope.  Another flash has her shifting her rifle to find where its originating from, but fails to locate it._  
  
 _She wasn't aware that the agency had sent a second sniper for this particular operation but then that information was on a need to know basis.  And if there was a second sniper, her bosses had deemed that she didn't need to know.  But her intuition was screaming that who ever this person was, wasn't on her side._  
  
 _She taps her ear knowing that her partner will be scanning the files that had been sent to them for this assignment as soon as she asks, "Any intel on another agent in this area?"_  
  
 _A pause and then a sputtered, "Are you sure?"_  
  
 _She hesitates before responding, "Saw a reflection that…." she stops talking when she sees another reflection.  She swivels her rifle, using the scope to find the exact location of the reflection.  "Gotcha.  Cole, on top of the train station near the parapet, there's another…." Cole interrupts her, "That's not your target."_  
  
 _Her jaw clinches at the not so subtle reminder of the parameters of her mission.  She takes a deep breath and lets Cole's rebuke disappear from her immediate thoughts.  But her subconscious was adding this new rebuke into a file of questions that had been building for awhile._  
  
 _She studies the figure, memorizing everything she can before reluctantly shifting her focus back to the front door of the coffee shop just as a brunette, her hair partially obscuring her face, wearing glasses, and her target exit.  She tracks her target and squeezes the trigger, when all hell breaks loose.  She watches as her target clutches his chest and collapses into the brunette by his side.  As he falls, shots, that she hadn't fired, ricochet off the doorway where he and the brunette had been standing._  
  
 _Her view of the target is blocked by the screaming and panicked chaos that the shots have created.  But, for a brief moment, she does catch a glimpse of the brunette, one hand covered in blood, dragging the target back into the coffee shop._  
  
 _She pivots her rifle on the tripod until the parapet of the train station comes into focus.  And what her scope is magnifying has her jaw clinching in anger for three reasons.  The first reason, the other shooter has their rifle trained on Shaw.  The second, the other shooter had fired indiscriminately into the crowd.  Though those two reasons were enough on there own to anger Shaw, it was the taunting that went over the line._  
  
 _The other shooter has one hand lifted and is wiggling their fingers at her as if saying I know you're there, I know I messed with your shot and there's nothing you can do about it.  She mutters, "I don't know who you are, but you just made a very big mistake."_  
  
 _She ignores Cole's voice in her ear asking, "What the hell is going on?  Shaw answer me."  She watches, through her scope, as the force of her first round shatters the glass of the scope and slams it backwards into the shooters face.  Her second and third shots slam into the torso of the shooter, who collapses, out of sight, behind the parapet._  
  
 _Shaw smirks as she lifts her head from the scope of her rifle and finally acknowledges both the sirens and Cole's voice screaming in her ear.  "I hear you Cole.  Mission completed."  She stands and casually breaks down her rifle before placing it in the duffle bag as well as the spent cartridges.  "I'm on my way out."  She glances out the door of the balcony at the chaos she and the other shooter have created before exiting the room.  The odor of burnt gun powder, that was rapidly disappearing from the room through the balcony's open door, is the only evidence that anyone was ever in the room._  
  
 _✶✶✶_  
  
 _Never in his wildest dreams did Hávarðr ever contemplate that when he left the apartment that he would be lying in his own blood on the floor of a coffee shop.  His sister had always been his protector, even when Oleg had entered their lives.  And If he survived this, Bodil would never, ever, let him leave the apartment again without her._  
  
 _Radicle, for all outward appearances, seem to be effected, as everyone else was, by the chaos that was swirling around her.  She was nervous and her hands trembled as she pressed a wad of napkins against the wound in Hávarðr's chest.  But if one took the time to study her, they would have come to the conclusion that she was in reality unfazed by the chaos._  
  
 _The sound of approaching sirens has her looking around when a wheezy, "Radicle,"  has her gaze dropping to Hávarðr.  She leans closer and whispers, "Help is on the way."  Her free hand quickly comes to rest on his chest as he struggles to move an arm.  "Don't move."_  
  
 _"I need my phone."  Hávarðr grasps her hand.  "Please."_  
  
 _She takes a quick look around before reaching into his pocket to retrieve the phone and handing it to him._  
  
 _Hávarðr, with great effort, accesses a program on his phone before turning to the brunette.  "I've sent you all of my access codes."_  
  
 _Startled by his actions, she wants to understand why he was trusting her with what every hacker strives for and holds dear, access codes.  She starts to lean forward when a voice, that makes her jump from its unexpected proximity, interrupts them, "Ma'am?"  She turns to find a paramedic beginning to kneel next to her.  "Are you injured?"_  
  
 _The slight tremor in her voice belies her calmness as she answers, "No."  She tells the paramedic, that the man on the floor had collapsed against her, knocking her to the ground.  The next thing she knew, she was back in the coffee shop and was trying to stop the flow of blood.  And no she wasn't injured.  The paramedic's attention shifts to the task at hand of saving Hávarðr's life._  
  
 _She stands and steps back allowing the paramedic to work but before she turns to leave, she meets Hávarðr eyes and nods her head and he responds with a subtle nod.  She steps further away and takes advantage of the turmoil to quickly wipe the blood splatter from her face and hands._  
  
 _The sound of more sirens has her blending into the chaos and as she disappears she wonders whether she or Hávarðr were the intended target.  If she was the target, then she must be getting to close to the truth about the rumors and if Hávarðr was the target then perhaps he was even closer to the truth._  
  
 _What she did know, despite the chaos surrounding the shootings, was that the shots were coming from two different directions.  What did all of this mean?  She stops walking as a new thought courses through her, perhaps both of them were the target.  And if that was the truth then the only logical conclusion was that she and Hávarðr were getting too close to the truth.  And as history has proven, those who are deemed a threat have a nasty habit of disappearing._  
  
 _She was careful by nature.  Always thinking out every possible option, no matter how inviable it appeared to be, had kept her from being caught.  But today's events were proof that she hadn't been careful enough.  And her biggest mistake had been meeting with Hávarðr in person.  From now on, she would use others to do her deeds while she remained in the shadows protected.  Unless she found something so intriguing, then she would step out of the shadows._  
  
 _Her phone beeps but she doesn't look at it, for she knows it's Hávarðr's access codes.  She'll wait until she can find a quiet place away from prying eyes and the CCTV cameras.  Until then, she'll just concentrate on getting out of the area._  
  
✶✶✶

Present day

Reese follows the delivery van from a distance as the progress deeper into the old Air Force base.  He lifts the map he had gotten from the visitor center and glances at it as he drives.  "Now I wonder where exactly you're going?"  
  
He slows down as the delivery van makes a turn onto a once overgrown road way that now shows signs of frequent use.  He doesn't stop but continues onward until he finds a parking lot near where the van had turned off.  He removes a pen from his pocket, makes a mark on the map where the van had turned off and then snaps a picture.  As he sends the picture he taps his com, "Harold?"  
  
 _"Mr. Reese, are you still following the van?"_  
  
"No.  It's turned off into an old road.  I've sent a picture of the map where it is."  He can hear Harold tapping on the computer.  
  
 _"I've received it.  With the map of the base, I should be able to plat what other areas that  this building connects to that aren't seen above ground."_  
  
"Anything from Fusco?"  Before Harold speaks the first word, Reese knows that something has happened and it's not good.  "What happened Harold?"  
  
 _"I'm not exactly sure.  All I can tell you is that our mutual friend was sent to help the Detective, who was not in good shape."_  
  
He looks around in surprise, "And he went?"  
  
 _"He did.  I'm sure he knew exactly what was going on long before he ever got near the Detective."_  
  
Reese removes his pistol and checks the clip before exiting the car.  "Does he know who did this?"  
  
 _"He has men watching the woman he believes is responsible.  Also any information about her as well as what he knows about the base will be sent to us."_  
  
"Root and Shaw?"  
  
 _"They are on there way.  And Mr. Reese, be vigilant.  Samaritian may be off line but Mr. Greer is not."_  
  
"Understood."  Reese ends the call and walks away from his car along the path towards the old building where he last saw the van heading.   Out of the corner of his eye he sees something and stops walking.  Carefully stepping off the path until he is next to a well camouflaged, and if he hadn't been expecting something like this he would never have seen it, trail camera.  
  
He's being extremely cautious as he examines the camera.  What he finds, unlike the normal ones available to the general public, is a modified RF camera with a signal booster.  He taps his ear.  "Harold, found a modified trail camera with a signal booster."   
  
_"I'm accessing the Park Service servers and now that is interesting.  It seems that there is a hidden network that is being piggybacked through the Park Service."_  
  
"Does it connect to cameras inside the facility?"  
  
 _"No, but it will allow me to access the security servers and then the main system."_  
  
"Good.  Let Shaw and Root know.  I'm going to recon around this building."  
  
 _"Be careful."_  
  
"Understood."  Reese methodically moves through the brush staying off the main trail.  As he places his foot on the ground, it slips just enough to make him aware that it's not dirt but rather something manmade.  He retrieves a stick from the ground and uses it to trace the outline of what he had stepped on.  What it reveals is a recessed and well hidden wooden door far from the pathway that lead from the parking lot to the building.  
  
He carefully feels along the edge of the door to check for any alarms or trip wires.  After feeling nothing he removes a flashlight from an interior pocket before carefully lifting the edge of the door.  To his surprise, there is no grating of rusted hinges or creaking of wood that hasn't been moved for awhile.  
  
He shines the light along the edge and finding no wires or alarms of any kind, he opens the door wider revealing a short, but old wooden ladder.  Listening for any movement, he turns off the flashlight by cautiously descending the ladder, the wood creaking with every step, into the darkness.  The door quietly closes after him.  
  
He listens to the silence that permeates the darkness.  Satisfied that there's no one in the immediate vicinity, he turns on the flashlight.  The beam reveals an old brick tunnel about the width of two people standing shoulder to shoulder and just tall enough that he can walk upright.  The floor is a partially finished brick path, that is crumbling in some places.  
  
He begins to follow the tunnel, his flashlight revealing the accumulation of dust.  It's evident that no one has been in this tunnel for a very long time.  His foot dislodges something in the dirt and the beam of his flashlight reveals a crowbar that undoubtedly had been left by the construction crew, who were building this tunnel.  
  
He continues walking until a brick wall signals the end of the tunnel.  As he sweeps the beam over the wall, he notices that around some of the bricks the mortar is deteriorating to the point parts of it fall out when he pulls on it with his fingers.  He retreats back down the tunnel, retrieves the crowbar then returns.  
  
Reese drags the end of the crowbar along the mortar breaking it free.  The hole that appears allows him to insert the crowbar and gently pry.  When he feels a brick break free from the surrounding mortar, he careful removes it.  He quickly but quietly removes more of the bricks until he finds another row of bricks behind the first ones.  
  
His flashlight reveals a the second row of bricks that completely fill what appears to be the frame of a doorway.  "Somebody definitely wanted this tunnel hidden from being accidentally discovered."  He continues removing the second row of bricks and finds a metal wall with no apparent doorknob.  Feeling around the frame, he pauses to listen to the hidden mechanism trigger its release.  He pushes the door open a smidgen waiting for the sound of alarms or the approaching footsteps of guards.  Satisfied that no alarm has been triggered, he pushes open the door.  
  
With his gun drawn, he steps through the opening to find himself in a storage room.  The door closes behind him, blending in so perfectly that if you weren't aware there was a door, then it simply appeared to be a intact wall.  
  
The only signs that anyone had been in the room were discarded beer cans, candy wrappers, food containers and cigarette butts.  None of the trash had recently been discarded.  He's careful not to disturb anything incase someone decided to examine the room.  But from the accumulated dust that is unlikely to happen.  
  
He listens at the door, before opening it and again listening for any movement or alarms.  Satisfied, he pushes the door open just enough to squeeze through before closing the door.  
  
✶✶✶  
  
Root has spent enough time studying her lover that she recognizes most of the motions.  Each weapon is carefully inspected before it's returned to the canvas carryall.  But, Shaw of course would deny that there was an additional, almost unconscious, caress of each weapon.  To say Shaw loved her weapons was an understatement.  Root had seen how she reacted to exotic weaponry, in fact she was guilty of teasing Shaw about her unnatural obsession with her weapons.  
  
But this added caress was different.  It almost seemed as if she was asking the weapons to shoot true, to be everything they were designed for, to not fail her.  Her train of thought is interrupted by Shaw's gruff, "You're thinking to much again."  
  
Root's blinding smile has Shaw shaking her head before walking over to the driver's door of the car.  She glances at Root, who hasn't moved.  "Are you coming…"  She pauses when brown eyes darken in mischief and something else.  "Just get in the damn car."  She gets in, slamming the door, starts it and as soon as she feels Root settling in the seat next to her, she's accelerating down the drive.  
  
As the world outside the car blurs past them, Root glances at Shaw.  "What do you know about the Montauk base?"  
  
"It's a maze."  
  
"Such as?"  
  
Shaw's fingers tighten on the deterring wheel, "Why isn't She telling you everything?"  She glances over at Root, who has her head tilted which means She is talking to Root.  "Well?"  
  
"There were plans to expand the base, but there aren't any blueprints detailing what areas were expanded."  
  
Shaw looks briefly at Root, "Or what areas are flooded," before returning her gaze to the  road.  
  
A multitude of questions are on the tip of Root's tongue but she simply asks, "What happened?"  A deep breath and the car accelerating are the only response.  She simply rests her hand on the tense muscles of Shaw's thigh offering support and the unspoken promise of not pressing for details as she turns to look out the windshield.  A soft smile forms when she feels Shaw's hand cover hers.   
  
"We were training, using the base as a substitute for a foreign city.  It was our job to find the person's of interest hiding place as well as any information whether physical or material."  
  
"Something went wrong?"  The unexpected pain from Shaw squeezing her fingers only has Root tightening her own grip.  
  
"Cole and I were the search team.  We weren't informed how many suspects we were looking for but it didn't take us long to find what we were looking for.  And what we found wasn't what we were expecting."  
  
"Sameen you don't have to tell me."  The crushing grip on her fingers eases and is replaced with Shaw's fingers tangling with hers.

"I've never told anyone what really happened.  Not even my handlers."  Root simply waits for her other half to tell the story.  "It seems that there was someone living in one part of the underground complex that took exception to his space being violated."  
  
"They were killed."  
  
"Yes."  Shaw shakes her head at the memory and tightens her hold on Root's hand using their connection to remain grounded.  "We were ordered out and all information was classified."   
  
Root studies Shaw.  The flicker of her eyelids revealing that she's reliving what she had seen.  "You went back."  It wasn't a question but a simple statement of fact.  Shaw may not have emotions like normal people, but Root knew she had a deeply seeded sense of right and wrong.  She had followed orders simply because she had believed they were right until she began to question the missions which eventually lead to her death as an agent.  
  
"I did.  And he will never," her fingers tighten around Root's, "Do it again."  
  
The car swerves to the right when Root grabs the steering wheel with her free hand.  Instead of struggling to regain control of the car, Shaw slams on the breaks throwing both women forward with only their seat belts keeping them from flying through the windshield.  
  
As the engine dies, only the hiss and popping sounds of a hot engine are heard before an angry, "What the hell…" rips through the confined space before abruptly ending with Root's lips on hers.  Her natural instinct once would have had her pulling away, instead she sinks into the comfort and understanding those lips are offering.  
  
Slowly Root pulls back smiling as the darkness that had been clouding Sameen's eyes, dissipates.  She can feel the small breath everyone takes before speaking and quickly rests a finger on Shaw's lips to keep her from uttering a single syllable.  
  
Eyes connect and the ensuing silence conveys far more than any spoken words ever could.  Neither forgiveness nor acceptance was asked for, but it was given, freely, by both women.  
  
Root tilts her head to one side and with a simple nod from Sameen, has her smiling as she shifts back into her seat.  Her seatbelt is barely snapped close before the car accelerates down the road.  
  
  
  
TBC  
  



	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11  
  
Horns and the screeching of brakes are heard on the Long Island Expressway as a Yamaha FZ-09, the driver as low as possible, the helmet bobbing with each new maneuver, darts in and out of traffic.  And if the verbal responses of the annoyed drivers could be heard, the profanities and the anger would have been easily distinguished amidst all the noise.  
  
Bodil's eyes, if anyone would have been able to see them, were narrowed in anger.  The anger wasn't directed at the other, in her opinion, incompetent driver's on the road but at herself.  Her arrogance had lead to the transmitter being discovered on the Detective's cell phone and worse, she had almost been discovered by the leader of the Government team that had raided the warehouse.  She had made a beginner's mistake and could feel, even though he wasn't present, Oleg's disappointment.  
  
This failing is what was driving her anger.  Not even the many near misses has her slowing down.  If anything she pushes the motorcycle even harder.  
  
What finally pierces through her anger are the wail of sirens.  She glances over her shoulder at the number of police cars that are gaining on her as traffic, surprisingly, moves out of the way.  Rather than forcing any kind of confrontation with the police, for they are simply doing their jobs, she looks around and quickly makes a decision.  
  
An upcoming series of exits make for the perfect escape route that Bodil needs to evade the police and to have time to ditch the motorcycle.  She maneuvers through the traffic until she is side by side to a semi.  As the semi slows down, she matches its speed.  
  
She glances over her shoulder to see the police are literally right behind her.  She suddenly accelerates and cuts in front of the semi.  Her acceleration and the screeching of the semi's air brakes are what keeps the rear tire of her bike from being clipped.  She doesn't bother to look knowing that the semi has slid to a stop blocking the exit ramp and keeping the police from following her.  
  
As the motorcycle accelerates down the exit ramp, a sign for a shopping mall can be seen in the distance.  Bodil knows this is the perfect place for her to ditch the motorcycle.  And if the approaching sirens were any indication, the police were regrouping faster than she had anticipated.  
  
To lessen the attention towards her, she slows down and casually pulls into the mall like any other person.  She winds her way through the parking lot until she at the furthest point from the main road before parking the motorcycle.  
  
As she removes her helmet, a woman driving a Jeep, pulls into an empty space about twenty feet from her.  She waits until the other woman is walking towards her before deliberately stepping into her path and colliding with her.  The helmet clatters to the ground as Bodil grasps the other woman to keep her from crashing to the ground.  "I am so sorry.  I didn't see you."  
  
The woman pushes Bodil away and takes a step backwards.  The contempt in her voice is easily heard,  "That much is obvious by the way you crashed into me.  I suggest you get your eyes checked before you hurt someone with your clumsiness."  The woman shakes her head in disbelief before continuing towards the mall entrance brushing her clothes in an attempt to remove any remnants of Bodil's touch.  
  
Bodil watches the woman enter the mall before opening her hand to reveal the keys to the Jeep.  She leaves the helmet and the jacket on the motorcycle.  With one last glance at the mall entrance, she walks over to the Jeep, unlocks it and gets in.  As she drives away she chuckles at the reaction the arrogant woman will have when she realizes the theft of her Jeep.  
  
✶✶✶  
  
As Shaw's car approaches the edge of the State Park, the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.  Trusting in her instincts, she brakes and quickly makes a right turn onto the Old Montauk Highway rather than staying on the highway that leads to the main entrance of the State Park where the former Air Force base is located.  
  
Root simply looks at Shaw with a raised eyebrow at the unexpected turn.  "Wanna tell me what we're looking for?"  
  
"A nice fire, a bed and a couple of perfectly cooked steaks."  Shaw heated gaze lands on Root, "And not necessarily in that order."  
  
Root's jaw drops open before she shakes her head and chuckles at the change that has taken place in the once reticent woman.  "Food, a bed and warmth.  Everything you need to be content."  
  
"Not everything."  
  
Root's eyes twinkle at the teasing, "Oh right.  Sorry I forgot about your girlfriends."  
  
Sameen smirks before she answers with a questioning, "Girlfriends?"  
   
Root tilts her head to one side as she studies the smirking woman.  "If I didn't know how you really felt, I'd…I'd be jealous."  
  
A soft laugh sends a shiver through her.  It's a reaction that she never thought she'd  feel and hopes to feel for the rest of her life.  "If anything, my 'girlfriends' are jealous of you."  
  
The smile that appears on Root's face is not one from being simply happy.  No, this smile reflects the joy and happiness, something she never expected to ever have a opportunity at, that encompasses her entire being.  This happiness is the fuel that was needed to make every ache and pain she had endured in her life, and in her determination to find Shaw, to wither away until they were nothing more than distant memories.  
  
A part of her would continue to analyze everything that had taken place in the car but now their attention needed to be towards what they were going to face at the old Air Force Base.  
  
Shaw glances at Root as she makes a right turn down an unmarked paved road that heads for the ocean.   "We're close.  Ready for some exercise?"  She's shaking her head before the last word leaves her mouth.  She's not surprised by Root's suggestive comment of, "Sweetie, I'm always ready for any exercise with you."  
  
"I'm sure something can be arranged once we get back to the bungalow."  
  
Root tilts her head to one side as she talks to the Her.  "She says we can park at the house at the end of the road."  The car slows as the house in question comes into view.  Shaw carefully turns the car around and backs it into the parking area.  Both women exit the car and retrieve their bags from the trunk.  
  
"She have any new intel about the base?"  
  
Shaw adjusts the knife in each boot as well as the one hidden on her belt as she watches Root, who's head is titled to one side as she listens to Her.  
  
"She's registered a surge in electrical usage.  They're probably testing the servers."  
  
"Anything else?"  
  
Before Root can answer, Shaw's phone rings.  She answers knowing it's either Finch, Reese or Fusco.  "What?"  
  
_"I assume Root is with you Miss Shaw?"_  
  
Shaw activates the speaker function on the phone, "She is.  Reese have any new intel?"  
  
_"He followed a delivery van to a seemingly unused building.  He also found modified trail cameras with signal boosters on the pathways around that building."_  
  
"Probably using the ones that have no signal until they're activated.  They can be modified only to react to human motion."  
  
_"That makes them extremely difficult to track."_  
  
"What if we interrupted the power?"  If Finch was standing in front of the two women, they would have seen him sit up a little straighter, his eyes widen and a slight tilt to his head as he contemplated the possible solution to the problem.  They could almost hear the synapses firing before he spoke.  _"The security program would be forced to connect with each camera and run a full diagnostic to determine if they were still active."_  
  
"And give us a location for each camera.  Though most of them will be around the buildings.  And especially the no access areas."  
  
_"As soon as I get the locations, I'll send them to your phone.  Also Detective Fusco was attacked."_  
  
Root and Shaw answer as one, "By who?"  
  
_"Elias wasn't sure.  He believes it was the same woman that his men had observed watching the warehouse where Decima was storing Samaritan's destroyed servers.  His men are watching her and will report her movements.  Unfortunately the Detective is unable to answer any questions at the moment."_  
  
"Anything else?"  
  
_"Mr. Reese also found a well hidden underground entrance.  It's location will also be sent to your phone."_  
  
"There are quite a few of those hidden entrances."  
  
Shaw nods her head to Root, that that was the way she had re-entered the complex to deal with the maniac that had slaughter the people in the training exercise.  
  
_"And Miss Shaw?"_  
  
"Yeah."  
  
_"I have a number of contacts within the jewelry industry if you need help picking out a ring."_  
  
Root's bark of laughter is easily heard by Finch before the connection is terminated.  Shaw jams the phone into her pocket while muttering, "Like I would need your help."  She glares at the laughing Root.  "So you think I can't find the perfect ring?"  
  
Still chuckling, Root steps closer to Shaw, "Sweetie, I have faith in you.  I had faith that you would survive Samaritan's capture, I had faith that you would find a way to escape and I had faith that you would find your way back to me."  She mimics Shaw's actions on the beach that seems so long ago and places Sameen's hand over her heart.  "My faith in you is what drove me to continue searching, even when everyone and everything was telling me it was fruitless."  
  
The soft, "Root?" is muffled when Root places a finger against Shaw's lips asking for silence.  "You said it was me that kept you alive but you are what kept me alive.  As long as my heart was beating, I knew you were alive and fighting.  I could feel you.  I could feel your anguish, your pain.  And as long as I could feel, I knew we had a chance.  So yes I have faith in you.  I have faith in us."  
  
The world and all of its problems receded into the background leaving the two women alone with their thoughts and emotions.  Just as they lean in to kiss, a beep from Shaw's phone has them collapsing against each other in quiet amusement.  
  
Root drops a quick kiss and steps back.  "Time to get rid of Samaritan once and for all."  
  
"And Greer."  Shaw turns and starts to walk into the brush but pauses at Root's soft, yet hopeful, "And when we're done we can go ring shopping."  
  
Shaw glances over her shoulder, her face unreadable to most but Root has learned to detect the glimmer of teasing in her eyes.  What she was expecting was a 'I don't go shopping,' or a 'Who says I was going to even ask you,' or even a, 'I don't do rings."  But the, "Who says I don't already have one," was not what she was expecting.  Shaw resumes walking leaving Root, her jaw dropped in surprise, in stunned silence.  Slowly a smile appears before she trots after her other half.  
  
✶✶✶  
  
Reese enters the loading dock area.  What he finds is what would be expected in an abandoned base.  Broken windows, that help the loose debris add to the authenticity of disuse and help to circulate the dust and sand over all of the surfaces.  What catches Reese's attention is the seemingly random abandonment of the larger pieces of debris.  
  
A flicker of light on one wall has Reese studying the area.  Knowing what kind of motion detectors are probably hidden in the room keeps him from advancing.  As he contemplates his moves, Finch's voice comes through his ear bud.  " _Mr. Reese, tap your ear bud if you can hear me."_   Reese does and he again he hears Finch's voice.  _"I'm going to interrupt the power.  When the generator kicks in, it will force the security system to reboot.  You will have about a minute to get inside before it reboots.  I'll send the locations of the cameras and motion detectors to your phone.  Be careful Mr. Reese."_  
  
He taps his ear bud and waits.  A whispered, _"Now."_ has him moving quickly for a wall where only a light layer of dust is present.  He searches the wall and finds a hidden switch.  Pushing it, he hears a click of a lock releasing.  He pushes on the door, enters and closes it behind him.  
  
Once through the door he finds himself in a well used hallway that is wide enough and tall enough for a forklift to drive through carrying a server.  The faint whiff of hydraulic oil reveals that it has seen traffic recently.  A slight vibration from the inner pocket of his coat, has him retrieving his phone and studying the information that Finch has sent him.  Slowly he proceeds down the hallway.  
  
✶✶✶  
  
Emergency lighting floods the area as technicians dart around checking each of the servers.  Greer watches the heightened activity, unperturbed by what's happening.  "It seems we have some uninvited visitors."  He taps a number on his phone.  "Bodil, where are you?"  
  
_"Just got back.  The Butcher has loyal friends.  The Detective refused to divulge her whereabouts."_  
  
"It doesn't matter."  
  
_"If you renege..."_  
  
"My dear, I have no intention of reneging.  I am simply informing you that you no longer need anything from the Detective or any of her friends.  She's on her way here."  
  
_"Where is she?"_  
  
"I don't know."  The growled, _"Greer,"_ has him taking a deep breath as a slight quiver of fear races through him.  Only once before has a single word ever invoked this kind of response and that word was spoken by a heavily sedated Sameen Shaw.  "Go to security and find them.  And Bodil."  
  
_"You want her alive."_  
  
"I want her to be able to answer a few questions.  Once I get what I want, then she's all yours."  
  
_"And if someone is with her?"_  
  
The icy calm that Greer wears as a shield cracks slightly at the thought of what will happen when Bodil catches up with Miss Groves and Miss Shaw.  "I'm sure Oleg taught you how to deal with any threat."  The only response from Bodil is the ending of the phone call.  
  
The lights flicker as the emergency lighting gives way to the normal lights.  A technician appears in front of Greer.  "Sir, the loss of power never impacted the electrical supply to the servers.  We ran a full diagnostic and everything checks out."  
  
"Good.  Are we prepared for the next delivery of servers?"  
  
"Yes sir."  
  
"I want the new servers up and running by the end of the week."  
  
"Yes sir."  
  
The technician re-enters the server room leaving Greer alone.  "Then the new and improved version of Samaritan will be ready."  The residual anger from his handler's treachery all those years ago has Greer almost snarling out, "And those who turned their backs on us will soon learn the true cost of that betrayal."  
  
✶✶✶  
  
Bodil storms into the security office startling the three men who are monitoring the equipment.  "I want every camera activated."  When none of the men move, Bodil grabs one man, pulls him backwards from his chair, turns and slams him hard enough into the wall that he is knocked unconscious.  She releases him and turns to the two remaining men.  "Do we have a problem?"  
  
The men shake their heads and turn to activate each camera.  "Yeah I didn't think there would be a problem."  She smirks as they try to hide their trembling hands.  "Re-calibrate the heat sensors to detect two human heat sources."  
  
A trembling, "Yes Ma'am."  
  
The monitors come alive with the view of four cameras on each monitor.  Bodil studies each monitor before pointing towards one camera.  "Where does that road lead to?"  
  
A map of the state park appears on another monitor.  It zooms in showing that that road ends less than an eighth of a mile from the ocean.  "Where's the recorded footage from this camera?"  
  
One of the security officers quickly access the footage and it appears on the main monitor.  "Ma'am, we have the last twelve hours."  
  
"Any activity other than the people who live there?"  The footage becomes a blur, then slows down as one vehicle makes the turn.  
  
The man searches the activity log.  "Just that one car."  
  
Oleg's training had taught her well.  She had already proved how easy it was to infiltrate this area when she had simply walked in from the beach.  The fact that no monitor's had been activated, meant the Butcher knew how to avoid them.  No matter, she was far better trained and more motivated than her prey.  
  
She turns to the unconscious man and removes his radio, the single ear bud, his side arm and his phone.  "Can you track this radio on the map?"  
  
A few clicks and a red dot appears at the security office.  "I want you to monitor that area and if anything, and I mean anything sets off an alarm, I want to know immediately.  Is that understood?  And send the map to this phone."  
  
Both men respond with a nervous, "Yes ma'am."  
  
Bodil starts to leave and stops.  "You won't like the consequences if you fail to keep me informed."  She doesn't need to look at the men to know that they understand that she's not making a threat but a promise.  
  
Soon she will be face to face with the woman responsible for her brother's death.  She will make her pay, but it won't be a quick death.  She's going to take her time and enjoy her retribution.  And then when the Butcher has paid with her life, it will be Greer's turn.  
  
✶✶✶  
  
Fusco groan's in pain as he slowly awakens.  He stiffens when a hand touches his shoulder.  "Easy Detective.  You've had quite a beating."  
  
"Elias?"  
  
"Yes Detective."  
  
"Where am I?"  
  
"A safe place."  
  
"Not gonna tell me, are you?"  
  
"We all have secrets Detective."  
  
Fusco closes his eyes in pain.  "Did you catch her?"  
  
"No.  What happened Detective?"  
  
"George slid down the pole and the next thing I knew this psycho was pummeling me.    
She asked me about Root by name.  
  
"Did she say anything else?"  
  
"Yeah, that she was sorry for having to hurt me.  That I was simply a means to an end."  
  
Elias hands Fusco his phone.  "Our mutual friend is aware that you are under my protection but I'm sure he would like to hear from you."  
  
"Elias?"  
  
"Yes, Detective."  
  
"Thanks.  I owe you one."  
  
"I was simply helping a friend."  
  
Fusco nods his head before making a call.  _"Detective.  It's good to hear from you."_  
  
"Hey glasses."  
  
_"Are you feeling better?"_  
  
"I'm not dead. I don't know who this psycho is but she's well trained.  She knew where to hit me to cause the most pain but not enough to kill me."  
  
_"Did she say why?"_  
  
"Yeah, she wants Root."  
  
_"Are you sure?"_  
  
"She specifically asked about Root by name."  
  
_"Did she say anything else?"_  
  
"Other than propositioning me, apologizing and confessing to beating up George, she didn't.  I wonder what Root did to piss her off?"  
  
_"As you know Root's past is…very colorful."_  
  
Fusco rolls his eyes, "Colorful.  Is that what you're calling it?"  
  
_"We all have a past Detective.  Just some are more colorful than others."_  
  
"Is yours as colorful as Root's?"  The silence from Finch gives Fusco his answer.  "Elias wants to talk to you."  Fusco hands the phone to Elias.  
  
"Harold, my men lost her for awhile but they were able to find her again and trail her to the park we were discussing earlier."  
  
_"Are they still in the vicinity?"_  
  
"They are.  Will their help be required?"  
  
_"I hope not.  But if they could follow anybody hastily exiting and report their locations, it would be helpful."_  
  
"Better to be prepared."  
  
_"Indeed."_  
  
Elias ends the call and finds Fusco has fallen into a restless sleep.  He steps back as one of his men administers another painkiller to Fusco.  "Take good care of our friend."  Another man leans closer to Elias, "Contact our men and tell them to watch for any hasty exits."  The man nods and leaves the room.  
  
✶✶✶  
  
Root and Shaw are walking far off the unpaved road that leads into the park.  At the intersection of a pathway they stop when they hear, _"Miss Shaw.  Miss Groves.  I'm sending you the locations of all of the cameras.  Also the heat sensors have been re-calibrated for two humans."_  
  
Root looks at her phone and finds the new information.  "Got it Harry."  She steps closer so Shaw can see the camera, motion detectors and heat sensor locations.  She taps on the screen to zoom in to where they are standing.  
  
"Anything on Reese or Fusco?"  
  
_"Mr. Reese was able to enter the building.  The Detective is awake and able to talk.  Whoever this woman is, she's after Root."_  
  
Shaw stares at Root.  "Is Fusco sure?"  
  
_"Yes.  He said she specifically asked about Root by name."_  
  
"What else did he remember?"  
  
_"That she's well trained.  The beating she inflicted on the Detective was painful and debilitating, but not life threatening.  And according to Elias, his men followed her to the State Park before losing her."_  
  
"That would explain why the heat sensors have been re-calibrated.  She knows we're coming."  
  
_"I would agree with that assessment."_  
  
A simple glance between Root and Shaw have them thinking the same thing.  "She may not realize we have access to the cameras."  
  
"Which we can use to our advantage."  
  
_"How exactly?"_  
  
Root can almost see all of the possible scenarios flickering through Shaw's thoughts.  It was a new facet to her very complicated lover.  It was invigorating to watch the tactical side at work.  
  
"Finch, other than the heat sensors, has anything else changed on the security feed?"  Shaw can hear Finch tapping away on the computer.  _"There is a new radio signal being tracked."_  
  
"If it was me, I'd assume that whoever I was tracking would be aware of the cameras and that they would be avoided."  
  
Root connects with Shaw's train of thought.  "And we wouldn't necessarily be aware of the sensors."  
  
"Exactly.  And if we activate the sensors away from where we're heading, she's going to have to check them even if there's nothing on the cameras.  How is that radio signal moving?"  
  
_"From its speed, I would say it's in a vehicle.  It's heading towards where you left your car."_  
  
"Good.  East of King's Point is a restricted area, but there is also a well used hiking trail.  If we activate those sensors, she'll have to back track to reach the area and search it, which will give us time."  
  
_"When do you need the sensors activated?"_  
  
"Wait until her vehicle has stopped.  She'll be inspecting our car."  
  
_"Understood.  And Miss Shaw be careful."_  
  
Shaw steps closer to Root before answering, "We will."  She taps her ear bud ending the conversation.  "You ready?"  
  
Root kisses Shaw quickly.  "I'm always ready to see you in action."  Shaw shakes her head as a small smile appears on her face before she walks past Root.  "Let's go."  They move quickly and quietly through the brush.  
  
✶✶✶  
  
Bodil slides the Jeep to a stop in front of Shaw's car.  She hops out, a gun in her hand as she approaches the car.  Only an idiot would immediately rush to the car and Bodil was no idiot.  The Butcher was careful which is why it had taken her so long to simply track down a picture much less learn the current name she was hiding under.  
  
She cautiously circles the car looking for any trip wires or alarms.  Satisfied that it's safe, she starts to step closer when an alert from the security office sounds in her ear.  She taps the ear bud, "Which alarm?"  She holsters her gun and pulls out her phone.  She looks at the blinking indicator on the map and studies the shortest path to get there.  "Don't send anyone.  I'll take care of it."  
  
She runs back to the Jeep, starts it and spins it around in a tight circle.  According to the map there was no easy way to get to the restricted area where the alarm is going off.  But there is part of a walking trail that connects to a paved road and that is exactly what she intends to take.  
  
She fishtails onto the old highway and soon is passing the old sentry box.  She slows down to turn on to the trail that is wide enough for the two Jeeps side by side.  So intent on getting to the restricted area she fails to see two people dropping out of sight along the side the trail.  
  
As soon as the sound of the Jeep disappears, Root and Shaw stand up and quickly cross the same trail.  "Did you get a good look at her?"  Shaw grasps Root's arm and pulls her to a stop, "Do you know her?"  
  
"She reminds me of someone, but I can't be sure."  
  
Shaw nods and pulls Root along with her, "Let's get going.  She's going to be back here soon enough once she figures out the false sensor reading."  They resume walking through the brush both racking their memories of who the woman is and where they may have encountered her.  
  
✶✶✶  
  
Bodil skids to a stop near the restricted area and to find hikers coming from the direction of the Montauk Lighthouse.  They more than likely set off the sensors, but as cunning as the Butcher is, she could be using the hikers as camouflage to hide her movements.  
  
Bodil exits the Jeep.  As she inspects the area, she comes to the conclusion that her prey was never here.  Somehow the Butcher remotely activated the sensor knowing that Bodil would come to investigate.  And by doing so, her prey got her to leave the area they were hiding in.  
  
She had allowed her driving desire for vengeance to overwhelm her training.  She takes a few deep breaths to center herself and allows her mistake to fall along the wayside.  What was done was done.  At least now she knew the Butcher was far closer than she had ever been.  And soon vengeance would be hers.  
  
TBC


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12  
  
Shaw moves swiftly through the brush and trees with Root close behind.  They remain parallel to the hiking trail to avoid any cameras, heat sensors or any other electronic devices that may have been planted by Greer's men.  As well as any innocent hikers.  
  
Root follows Shaw but her brain is working overtime trying to remember, even though it was only a glimpse, of the woman they had seen in the Jeep.  Not even She would be able to help Root to remember.  But truthfully most of those she had hacked, blackmailed, been hired as a killer or had stolen from, were more than happy to pay her to keep their exploits from coming to light.  There would be too many questions.  
  
Obviously there was someone who had no concern about coming after her.  Who had no fear of having their dirty secrets being revealed.  And how did Greer find her?  Or did she find Greer?  
  
Shaw's hand on her shoulder has her coming back to the present.  "Stop thinking so much."  
  
Root shrugs, "Just trying to…" the rest of her response is muffled when soft lips sends her mind in another direction.  "Not that I'm complaining but what exactly did that accomplish?"  
  
Shaw's slight smirk has Root rolling her eyes.  "It did exactly what it was intended to do.  It took your mind off thinking who that woman is.  Because I need all of you in the here and now."  They continue walking as Root's eyebrow rises, "I think I've proved, multiple times, how capable," her gaze turns heated as it roams over Shaw, "I am at multitasking."  
  
"True."  Shaw has stopped in an ordinary looking part of the woods.  "We're here."  
  
Root looks around and sees nothing but the trail, a wooden bridge over a small creek, trees, both living, on the ground or large stumps and rocks of all sizes and shapes.  She sees little of importance but like Sameen appearances can be deceiving.  "Hidden entrance?"  Shaw simply tilts her head to one side and shrugs her shoulders at the question.  
  
One of the larger logs on the ground looks a little odd.  Root walks over and nudges it with her foot and, even though it looks heavy, it moves.  Smirking at Shaw, she bends over and lifts the fake log revealing a two foot by two foot square piece of concrete with a door and a protruding handle.  She grasps the handle and pulls.  To her amazement the entire piece of concrete comes off the ground.  It is as fake as the log.  Shaking her head, she returns the fake hidden entrance to how she found it before turning to Shaw.  "So?"  
  
Rather than answering, Shaw walks over to a rock that a large tree has grown around.  Soft clicks are heard as her fingers trace around the edge of the rock.  A slight tug and the rock swivels on a hidden hinge revealing a black opening and the very tips of the side rails of a ladder.  The opening is just wide enough for them to get through.  Shaw waves her hand towards the hidden entrance, "Shall we?"  
  
"Sweetie, you always take me to the most exotic locations."  
  
"You can thank me later.  But now," she reaches into the bag slung over her shoulder and removes two flashlights, "we need to get going before our 'friend' returns.  And she isn't going to be in a good mood after discovering the sensors activating were nothing more than a deception."  
  
Root nods, steps forward to take the flashlight and turns it on.  She turns around and begins to descend into the blackness.  As Shaw follows Root down the ladder, soft clicks are heard as the rock locks back into place.  
  
Cobwebs, heavy with dust are revealed from the combined effort of their flashlights.  Root wrinkles her nose as she wipes the cobwebs off her face.  "Doesn't look like anyone has been in here for awhile."  
  
"Looks exactly how it was when I came back."  The occasional crunch, from fallen ceiling tiles, is heard from Shaw's footfalls as she begins to walk down the narrow corridor.  Root stays close as she follows her other half.  "So this is how you got back into the base."  It's not a question but a statement and the results are not what Root was expecting.  
  
Shaw stops walking, the beam of her flashlight dips towards the floor as she remembers.  "Sameen?" Concerned, Root's hand comes to rest on Shaw's shoulder as she steps closer.  She feels the tension on her lover's shoulder as she begins talking.  "I sent Cole back to notify command when we found the remains of the first two people from the training exercise.  What I found after… that animal hadn't just killed them.  He left so little that it was hard to distinguish anything that remotely looked human."  
  
Shaw's chuckle is humorless as she continues, "Before we were ordered out, I found where he had been living.  And there under a pile of bloody clothes I found a dilapidated backpack.  But before I could search it, there was an inhuman howl that echoed through the corridors."  
  
"He found you?"  
  
Shaw leans into Root needing the closeness.  "Something did.  We could hear howls coming from somewhere deep in the darkness.  And then rapidly approaching footsteps.  We were ordered to leave but before I left I grabbed the backpack.  Just as the door closed, something or someone slammed into it."  
  
"You were ordered to forget what you had seen and heard."  
  
"Yeah."  Shaw nods her head.  "And then I went back."  
  
"Sameen, you don't…." Shaw turns, her fingers rest against Root's lips stopping any further speech.  "I know you won't judge me for what I did and I know you understand why I had to return."  
  
Root's arms slide around Shaw's neck pulling her closer.  The only sounds heard are their soft breaths.  What happened in their pasts can't be changed.  But when two people, who have similar pasts, care for each other deeply, it can be forgiven.  So without a word being said, forgiveness is neither asked for or expected, but it is freely given and wholeheartedly accepted by both of them.  
  
✶✶✶  
  
Bodil knows where her prey parked their car and uses the map of the state park to try and figure out where they are going.  She slams her hand on the hood of the Jeep when she realizes that part of the trail she had driven over is more than likely exactly how her prey were getting further into the park.  They could blend in with other hikers they met on the trail.  But Bodil's experience told her that they would be avoiding everyone.  Even if it meant staying off the trail.  
  
What was so special about this part of the park?  The trail, north of where it crossed the highway, meandered away from all of the restricted areas except from where it ran along the south side of Battery 112.  It then veers away from the buildings and deeper into the woods.  
  
Raised voices has her glancing over her shoulder as five hikers, with cameras and backpacks, appear around a bend on the trail.  They don't see her leaning against the Jeep, which is slightly hidden from view.  It's what she overhears that has her listening intently to their conversation.  
  
"I'm telling you it's nearby."  
  
"What are we looking for?"  
  
"A pile of dirt and debris that looks like it was just casually dumped."  
  
"And the opening is underneath it."  
  
"Like they didn't seal it before dumping debris on it."  
  
"You know sooner or later the men in black are going to show up."  
  
"Who do you think were in the RV's at the fishing area?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"You need to open your eyes.  No one was out fishing and there were a lot of extra antennas and satellite dishes on each of the RV's."  
  
One of the hikers has walked away from the others and is standing near a dirt pile where erosion has collapsed one side.  Sticking out of the mud is the corner of a piece of concrete.  "I think I found it."  
  
Bodil watches as the hikers quit arguing about their conspiracy theories and run over to the debris pile.  Folding shovels are pulled from backpacks as they begin to dig.  Nothing in Greer's files had given any indication that there were undocumented entrances.  
  
One secret entrance meant there was the possibilities of others.  With this new information, she now knew how they were going to enter the subterranean base.  The only thing she didn't know was where their tunnel was and where it opens up.  She had anticipated that she may need her own surveillance sources that were completely autonomous to Greer and his computer.  Hopefully her prey would activate one of them.  
  
Perhaps these hikers had information on other secret entrances and she can release some of her anger by playing on their conspiracy theories.  She removes sunglasses from her coat pocket and as she puts them on, she strides over to the hikers in full intimidation mode.  
  
Rather than saying anything, Bodil simply waits, her arms crossed over her chest, for one of the hikers to notice her.  First one notices her, then a second and then a third.  The final two lift their heads and at seeing Bodil, they fall over backwards on to their rear ends.  
  
Bodil lowers her arms and waits for almost a minute before asking, "Care to explain exactly why you are vandalizing government property?"  Her lips twitch in amusement from the fear that flickers across their faces.  "Well?"  
  
Finally one of the hikers, who is sitting on the ground, swallows and stammers out an answer.  "We…were just curious, ya know…about the odd stories that are, ah, associated with this former base."  
  
"So why did you decide to start digging," she removes her sunglasses letting the hikers see the coldness in her eyes, "here?"  
  
Three of the hikers were all talking at once.  
"We found a map that showed this entrance.   
"It had been covered over."  
"We wanted to find it and..."  
  
Bodil holds up a hand that immediately silences the hikers.  "What map?"  
  
One of the hikers starts to reach into their backpack, stops and glances at Bodil, who has put her hand behind her back as if she was grasping a weapon.  Eyes widen in fear as eyes dart from Bodil's emotionless face to the hand behind her back.  "Um, it's in…here."  
  
Bodil lets the fear deepen before she nods and removes her hand from behind her back.  Her lips twitch in amusement as the hiker visibly relaxes.  "I'd like to see this map."  
  
"Yeah, sure no problem."  The hiker removes the map and hands it over to Bodil and quickly returns to the 'safety' of his friends.  She opens the map and begins to study it.  Marked on the map is this particular entrance with a notation that it had been covered over by a large dirt pile.  She continues to study the map and locates other possible entrances including one on the trail she was sure her prey had taken.  "You have a problem with me keeping this map?"  
  
"Nope."  
"Not a problem."  
"Keep it."  
  
"Good.  Now why don't you," she glares at the hikers, "Get out of here and we'll just forget this vandalism ever happened."  The five hikers don't hesitate to take off running as fast as they can down the trail.  None of them dare to look back in fear that this unidentified government agent was coming after them.  
  
Bodil chuckles at the combined looks of fear and then relief that had crossed each of their faces when they finally realized that she was letting them go.  She can imagine the  stories they were going to tell about their run in with an alleged government agent.  And the more they told the stories the more outlandish they would become.  
  
She returns to the Jeep and drives back the way she had come.  
  
✶✶✶  
  
Root places a quick kiss on the side of Sameen's head before she steps back.  "You never answered how you found this entrance."  
  
"Found a highly detailed hand drawn map in the backpack.  It even showed the lower levels that according to official records don't exist."  
  
"Who knows about the map?"  
  
"Three.  You, me, and the other one is dead."  
  
They begin walking down the tunnel.  "So where does this come out?"  
  
"I came out under what was the operations building."  
  
"Did you only come back that one time?"  
  
"Yeah.  I went back to where we found the bodies and made as much noise as possible to draw his attention.  Then I waited.  It didn't take long."  
  
Root bumps Shaw, "Was it a fair fight?"  
  
Shaw stops and looks at Root.  She knows exactly what her other half is trying to do and rather than fighting it, she lets the lightness of the question pull her out of the darkness she had been descending into when they had entered the tunnel system.  "Does it matter?"  
  
"Not really." Root leans in closer, "So are we ready to kick some Samaritan hard drives?"  
  
"Wouldn't have brought the C-4 if I wasn't."  
  
✶✶✶  
  
Bodil stops the Jeep on the trail and exits the vehicle.  She begins walking, scanning the area for any indications of where her prey had crossed but nothing seems to be out of place.  
  
Taking out the map, she begins walking up the trail towards where one of the supposed hidden entrances is located.  She answers her ringing phone.  "Have you located them?"  She listens and then snarls out, "Then why are you bothering me?"  She ends the call.  "Idiots."  
  
She crosses the wooden bridge and stops when she notices that a fallen tree has been shifted recently.  She walks over and studies the area before touching the tree.  Her eyes narrow in confusion, then she taps the tree.  Rather than a thump, it echoes with a hollow sound.  She grasps the edge and lifts, revealing the same square piece of concrete that Root had found.  
  
"After six years of searching, your death will soon be avenged Hávarðr.  The Butcher is close.  She will be begging for her death but it will be slow and painful.  And when I'm done with her, Greer will pay for his treachery to Oleg."  
  
She grasps the protruding handle and pulls.  The concrete comes off the ground revealing nothing more than undisturbed ground.  This entrance was nothing more than a fake entrance.  The fake concrete slams into a tree and splits in half from the force of Bodil's anger.  
  
A beep from her phone has her jerking it out of her pocket.  She taps the screen and finds a notification that one of her surveillance devices has been activated.  It's location was near the corridor where she had observed the servers being transported into the facility.  It seems the Butcher and her friend weren't the only undesirables that had penetrated Greer's vaunted security.  But she wasn't surprised as she had easily accomplished the same thing.  
  
She starts to call security and stops.  If this is another friend of The Butcher, she could capture them and use them against her prey.  Plus she would be able to take out some of her frustration on her captive.  And if they got a little 'hurt', well The Butcher would have to take the blame.  After all, anything that happens to her friends are the direct result of killing Hávarðr.  With a spring in her step, Bodil trots down the trail towards the Jeep.  
  
✶✶✶  
  
Greer enters the server room and strides over to where a group of technicians are connecting the leads of an oscilloscope to one of three servers that have been powered down.  "What happened?"  
  
The lead technician, the one Bodil had terrorized in the corridor, turns and nervously clears his throat before answering.  "The latest diagnostic tests revealed power fluctuations that were increasing in frequency in these three servers.  We were concerned that a cascading failure was imminent.  As a precaution, we rerouted the connections."  
  
"They're being removed?"  
  
"Yes, sir.  Unfortunately we have no backups until the next shipment of servers is delivered."  
  
Greer steps closer, "This will set back our timeline by how much?"  
  
The technician hesitates, "It depends if we can find what's causing the circuits to trip."  
  
"Then I suggest you get to work.  And if need be Bodil," Greer is amused by the sudden whitening of the technician's face, "can provide any needed incentive."  The technician swallows heavily, nods and turns back to the group that are running diagnostics on the three servers.  Greer had seen the encounter between the two of them in the corridor.  And to say he was impressed, with the fastness of Bodil's intimidation, would be an understatement.  
  
It was unfortunate that Bodil would have to die once her usefulness was no longer required.  Unexpectedly, part of a new, and complicated, plan comes to him.  What if after Ms. Groves was captured, and answered a few of his questions, she was allowed to escape.  Bodil would be forced to continue to work with him until her prey could be found again.  
  
He was sure that with the inadequacies in security, that Bodil had so kindly demonstrated, it wouldn't be difficult to allow Ms. Groves to escape.  He would need to be careful, for if Bodil suspected anything was amiss, he would die and it would not be quick.  But knowing the abilities of his opponents to escape the impossible, he wouldn't be required to do much more than leaving a few bread crumbs for them to follow.  And if any of his opponents just happened to meet an untimely end, well casualties are part of any war.  The secret was to make your opponent the casualty, not you.  
  
Greer lifts his hand and an assistant steps closer.  "Send men to examine the loading dock."  
  
"Sir, none of the alarms..."  
  
The assistant stops talking as Greer steps closer, "I am aware of that.  That means someone deliberately caused the power failure so they could enter the facility undetected.  I want a full sweep and double the guards leading to the servers."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
The assistant starts to leave but is stopped by Greer's, "Wait."  Confused the assistant turns, "Sir?"  
  
"Use the tasers.  I want the intruder, alive.  Is that understood?"  
  
"Yes, sir."  The man nods and exits the room.  
  
Greer watches the technicians work as he contemplates which of Harold Finch's associates has penetrated the facility.  The last intel stated it was a lone man that was following the delivery truck. That meant it was John Reese.  His lips quirk slightly at watching a fight between Reese and Bodil.  That could be very entertaining and with the right incentive whispered in Bodil's ear, she would be unstoppable even against a highly trained operative that Reese has shown himself to be.  
  
Bodil wasn't after Reese, she was after Ms. Groves.  He had no intel nor were any of his sources able to explain why Bodil was after her.  And until Samaritan is back online, his resources are some what limited.  That is, if you call having like minded people in all levels of the government and businesses in the vast majority of the countries, limited resources.  Even with all of these resources at his disposal, he had found very little about Bodil.  She was similar to him for they were both ghosts to the majority of the world.  
  
His extensive contacts in Russia were unable to confirm that Oleg Luski had been sent to a Siberian prison or any confirmation that he had escaped.  If he was still alive, he was either living off the grid or had found a way to bury his true identity.  Perhaps when Samaritan is back online, he would track down Oleg and pay him a visit. They could reminisce about old times.  
  
He wasn't sure which would be the better fight against Bodil, Shaw or Ms. Groves.  The latter had proven herself to be a formidable opponent, the destruction she wrought through Decima's forces was proof, that she had no qualms in using every means available to get what she wanted. Though this destruction had brought out a very glaring weakness, she cared deeply for and about Sameen Shaw.  It was a weakness that could be exploited whether by Greer or Bodil remained to be seen.  
  
A more interesting fight would be between Bodil and Ms. Shaw.  The former ISA Agent was a formidable adversary.  He had know this was true long before the information that was retrieved from the simulations.  But the one very intriguing fact was the emotional connection she had with Ms. Groves.  How many people would kill themselves to protect someone?  Very few, but in Shaw's case, every simulation ended with her killing herself rather than Ms. Groves.  
  
It became abundantly clear that Shaw and Ms. Groves were each others weakness.  And when the time was right, he would exploit that weakness, all in the name of Samaritan.  Regardless of whom Bodil fought, it was going to be very interesting fight.  And if they were all to die, then it would mean fewer threats that stood in the way of the inevitable that is Samaritan.   
  
✶✶✶  
  
Reese has yet to encounter anyone as he continues to walk down the corridor.  Hearing something or someone coming towards him, he steps into a room and closes the door.  Risking it, he taps his earbud.  "Finch?"  
  
 _"Mr. Reese.  There are what appears to be patrols heading in your direction."_  
  
"Heard them coming.  Is there an alternate route?"  he looks around the room and finds very little other than a few forgotten chairs and discarded food wrappers.  
  
 _"There is a utility corridor that can be accessed.  It runs along the back wall."_  
  
"Can I access it in this room?"  
  
 _"Unfortunately no.  There is a maintenance room nearby.  On the back wall is a panel that will give you access to that corridor."_  
  
"How much access will the corridor give me?"  
  
 _"According to Elias' information, you can access most of the known base.  I'm sending you a map that has this new information."_  
  
"Anything from Root and Shaw?"  
  
 _"They are on the base, I'm just sure exactly where."_  
  
"Understood."  
  
 _"The patrols have exited your area."_  
  
Reese listens at the door, "Does Elias have men watching?"  
  
 _"He does.  They will follow anything that looks suspicious and report to us."_  
  
"Good."  Reese taps his earbud to end the connection.  He slowly opens the door and exits the room.  
  
✶✶✶  
  
The time Bodil had spent exploring all the corridors, nooks and crannies, whether they were shown on a map or not, is paying off.  She had placed her own surveillance devices in areas that she would have used if she was the one doing infiltrating.  And one of those devices in a maintenance room had sent her a short text that someone had entered the room.  
  
Wanting to keep the knowledge of the utility corridor a secret, (you never know when she might need it to escape) she stations Greer's security patrols at various points along the main corridor.  She enters a room and then the utility corridor and starts walking towards whomever is in the corridor.  
  
There are only two escape routes for the intruder.  Either go back the way that had come or use one of the access panels.  Well technically there is a third but that would mean getting past Bodil and that is not something she is going to allow.  
  
Deciding to have a little fun, she picks up debris from the floor and begins tossing them against the walls, the ceiling and in front of her.  A corresponding ping is heard with every piece she throws.  She can imagine what the intruder is thinking.  
  
✶✶✶  
  
Reese pauses at the first ping.  After the second ping he knows there's someone in the corridor with him.  Checking the map, he finds another access panel less than five feet from him.  As quietly as possible, he finds the panel, opens it and slips through into another room.  As he turns, he is confronted by a security guard and before he can move he's tasered.  
  
He fights the electricity that is rocketing through his body.  As he reaches for the leads to rip them out, he's shocked again.  This time the shock is too much and he falls to the ground, his body twitching from the shock to his nervous system.  
  
Bodil enters through the access panel to find John Reese on the floor unconscious.  She follows the leads back to a suddenly nervous guard.  Before he can move, she's slapped the gun out of his hand and grabs him by his shirt.  "Mr. Greer wanted him…"  She lifts and pins him against the wall.  A strangled, "alive."  
  
She lifts him off the wall and then slams him backwards knocking him unconscious.  She releases the guard and watches as he slides down the wall.  "And I wanted him awake."  
  
  
TBC


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13  
  
A dazed Reese sits restrained in a chair. Without alerting whomever is watching him that he is conscious, he surveys the large storage room and what he finds is not to his advantage. There are multiple zip ties on his arms and legs that will make an escape attempt futile unless he has help. While the zip ties are a problem, what concerns him more are the number of limp wires that are coming out from under the chair and ending in the small boxes that surround him. What's in the boxes, he has no idea, but all of his instincts are telling him that he is the bait in a trap.  
  
He can feel the earbud, but whether it still works after being tasered, he couldn’t be sure. He allows his head to fall limply to the left hoping that he can activate it. A smug, “Mr. Reese, nice of you to join us,” has him lifting his head to find Greer, and a woman that he doesn’t know standing outside the circle of boxes.  
  
“Greer. What do you want?”  
  
“Just a few simple questions.”  
  
A hoarse, “What, you want me to join Samaritan and become a mindless drone like you.”  A slight tingle in his ear gives him hope that Finch can hear what’s happening in the room.  
  
The slow clapping of Greer’s hands has Bodil looking at him in confusion. “A mindless drone. Well I have been called worse.”  
  
Reese glances at Bodil, “And your replacement cog?” The slight flaring of her nostrils is the only anger Bodil displays towards Reese at his comments.  
  
“She and I have come to an…understanding.”  
  
Reese knew there was more to that simple statement but this was not the time. “What do you want Greer?”  
  
Greer smirks. "It's really very simple. I want you and your colleagues to accept the inevitability that is Samaritan.”  
  
Reese shakes his head, “Inevitability? Remind me what happened to Samaritan last time.”  He smiles at the tightening of Greer’s eyes. “Oh, that’s right. The Machine beat Samaritan and then you blew it up.”  
  
Greer prided himself on always being in control of his emotions. Not even the imbeciles he was forced to deal with, could make him loose control. But there is always an exception to any rule. For him, there were two: Ms. Groves and Ms. Shaw. Though Mr. Reese was rapidly becoming the third exception. He takes a breath and smugly states, “Unlike your precious Machine, Samaritan survived that encounter!”  
  
Reese hears a softly whispered, _“Now that is interesting that Greer believes the Machine didn’t survive. I’m attempting to locate your precise location Mr. Reese.”_  
  
He glances at the zip ties, then to Greer and Bodil, “If I’m no longer a threat to Samaritan, why am I tied up?”  
  
Greer laughs as he steps closer to Reese. “You tracked me here without the Machine’s help. So that makes you a continued threat. As you can see, my colleague,” he indicates the wires resting on the floor, “has taken steps to rectify that issue.”  
  
Reese studies the intricate web of wires that are crisscrossing over the floor. “And if anyone was to try and rescue me, they would be collateral damage?”  He can imagine Finch’s eyes widening as this information sinks in. And what he expects to hear is Finch’s response of _“I understand Mr. Reese.”_  
  
When Greer had been double crossed, his view of right and wrong were radically changed. What never changed though was the truth of any war. “There are always losses in any war. Some are simply…more acceptable.”  
  
“Was Martine’s death acceptable?”  
  
Greer shrugs his shoulders. “Her usefulness had come to an end. As yours, soon will.”  He nods to Bodil, who walks over to Reese and squats down.  
  
Reese can’t see what she is doing, but he can see that the web of wires are moving. As far as he can tell, she has connected all of the wires to something attached to the underside of his chair.  
  
He watches as two separate wires are played out as she walks backwards towards Greer. Each wire has been doubled and are connected to rings she holds in her hands.  
  
“I would say until we meet again but regrettably that will not be the case this time.”  He nods to Bodil, who pulls on one of the wires.  
  
The intricate web of wires grow taut and then a click is heard as something slides into place under his chair. He watches as that wire is pulled back to Bodil. The second wire is pulled taut until a ring attached to a safety pin comes into view. The ring arches into the air with a flick of Bodil’s wrist. The trap is armed  
  
“Goodbye Mr. Reese.”  Greer and Bodil exit the room.  
  
He waits before quietly saying, “Finch, tell Root and Shaw not to come for me. I’m the bait to trap them. I have no idea what type of trigger I’m sitting on.”  
  
_“Understood. I may have a solution to your problem.”_  
  
“Which would be?”  He hears a click and another voice can be heard. _“Mr. Reese, we meet again.”_  
  
“Elias.”  
  
_“Yes. One of my men, shall we saw, has experience with your particular predicament. Can you describe what is in the room?”_  
  
Reese looks around. “Its a large storage room that has been stripped bare. Part of the…”. He studies the ceiling and a rare smile appears. “Elias, is your man good with ropes?”  
  
_“What kind of ropes?”_  
  
“Rappeling.”  
  
_“Strangely enough, repelling and free solo climbing are some of his more, shall we say, unique and varied talents.”_  
  
“There is an exposed girder that’s directly above me. He should be able to rappel down without triggering the detonator.”  
  
_“Harold has your location and it will be sent to my men. They will be there soon.”_  
  
“Elias…”  
  
_“There’s no need Mr. Reese.”_  
  
A lost soldier, a former government assassin, a reformed killer for hire, a brilliant programmer, a police officer and now a feared, yet mysterious mob leader had all joined forces against a threat that for the most part was invisible to the general populace. ‘The enemy of my enemy is my friend,’ was never more evident than in this diverse set of allies that had come together to fight Greer and Samaritan.  
  
✶✶✶  
  
In a parking lot, three men exit a nondescript vehicle. As one stands guard, the other two open the trunk and remove three backpacks. A false wall opens, revealing an arsenal that Shaw would have salivated over. They remove weapons, silencers and multiple clips of ammo.  
  
The one standing guard, opens a text message on his phone to find a map leading to where Reese is being held. He closes the message, turns to the other two men and accepts one of the weapons. Without a word being said, they move quickly towards one of the buildings on the old base.  
  
✶✶✶  
  
Bodil and Greer walk down the corridor. “That was a rather intricately designed trap. Did Oleg teach you that?”  
  
“No.”  
  
A sudden thought has him stopping and turning to look back at where Reese is being held. “It’s fake.”  
  
“It’s real enough to make them take their time to try and defuse it.”  
  
Greer turns to Bodil, “Martine was a loyal soldier, but you, my dear, are a vast improvement. Oleg trained you well. And when you talk to him, please inform him I would like to talk about a detente between us. Together, with Samaritan, we would become a formidable force. And those that oppose us…well I’m sure you would have a way of dealing with them.”  
  
Bodil stares at Greer, revealing nothing. Even her, “Oleg is alive,” is neither a confirmation nor a question. As Oleg had predicted, flattery and an enticing opportunity were being used to try and lure her away from her mission. Before she can answer, Greer says, “Just think about the offer.” He walks away from her.  
  
If he had turned around, he would have seen the disgust on Bodil’s face. Greer had sworn an oath to his country and then betrayed it. She had sworn an oath to Oleg and, unlike Greer, she had no intention of betraying it. She was not a traitor.  
  
✶✶✶  
  
Paint peels from around the corroded rivets that keep the metal panels of the wall connected to each other. Faded and more brilliant graffiti adorned much of the walls. The rest of the room looks as if a dust devil had released its destruction, old, faded and dried debris is mixed together with newer debris. Metal chairs, desks and anything not tied down have been strewn around the room.  
  
Metal cabinets, that were attached to the walls with heavy bolts, still stand, but their doors were either torn off or dangling by a single, bent hinge. Their contents were mixed with the rest of the debris in the room.  
  
In one corner of the room, near a pile of chairs and debris, a mangled, industrial strength sink stands. It’s been heavily dented from the numerous chairs that have been been slammed into it. Empty holes show where the faucets and the drain once resided.  
  
The soft sound of an aged seal giving way is heard in the room and then silence. A squeal of rusty hinges echoes in the room as a hidden opening next to the sink swings inward. Shaw, followed by Root emerge from the hidden recesses of the base.  
  
Shaw looks around to see if anyone had been in this room since she had. Her lips twitch in silent amusement as Root wrinkles her nose from the dust and years of debris. “Well I have been in places far worse than this.”  
  
“So have I.” Shaw walks over to the door and feels around the edges and feels the markers she had left indicating that the door hasn’t been open since she had closed it. “Nobody’s been here.” Not hearing a response, she turns and finds Root with her head slightly tilted as she listens to Her.  
  
“She says there have been extra guards sent to protect the server room.”  
  
Shaw snorts at the typical defensive response that more is better. “Anything from Finch or Reese?” The sudden stiffening of Root has her stepping closer. “What did Reese walk into this time?”  
  
“It seems our friend tasered him and has him sitting on some sort of trap.”  
  
“Where is he?” Root’s hand keeps Shaw from storming out. “Elias is sending men to help. We need to take care of the servers.”  
  
Shaw taps her earbud, “Reese, you busy?”  
  
_“Shaw. Kind of have a situation here.”_  
  
A muffled chuckle has Shaw turning and meeting Root’s gaze. Her lips twitch as they both remember Root calling her in the middle of a firefight. Except it was Root saying, _‘I’m aware of your situation, that’s why I called.’_   Shaking her head at Root, she talks to Reese, “So I’ve heard which is why I’m calling. What kind of trap?”  
  
_“Not sure. I can’t see what the wires are attached to under the chair.”_  
  
“After Elias’ men get you free, I want you to activate the trap when I tell you to.” She can imagine Reese contemplating why.  
  
_“You want a distraction to draw the guards away from the servers.”_  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
_“There’s someone coming. I’ll let you know when I’m free.”_  
  
Shaw taps her earbud and turns to Root. “You ready?” As soon as she says it, she knows an innuendo laced quip is coming her way.  Besides if she was being truthful, she enjoys Root’s quips far more than she lets on. And the, “Sweetie, even with my last breath I’d always be ready for you,” has her rolling her eyes.  
  
“Just make sure that last breath,” she waits until Root’s eyes lock with hers, “doesn’t happen,” she steps closer until they are inches apart, “for a very long time.”  
  
There are so many things Root could and should say, and yet there is only one word that truly matters, only one word that she can utter. It’s a soft, but heartfelt, “Okay.”  
  
Eyes, sparkling with happiness, study their other half. Promises are made and accepted without a word being said. And if one listened closely they would have heard the litany of scars on their hearts and souls dissipating as if they had never existed.  
  
Shaw simply nods, turns and opens the door. She doesn’t need to look to see if Root is following, for where she goes, Root goes and vice versa. They had begun this journey on separate paths, two lost souls shrouded in the darkness they walked in and yet, inexplicably, they had found their other half. And now they were connected in a way that made them one.  
  
They were skillful opponents on their own. Even with all of the computing power at its disposal, Samaritan and its altar ego,Greer are about to discover, the hard way, that this connection is what makes them the most formidable of adversaries.  
  
✶✶✶  
  
The door to the storage room opens only wide enough for Elias’ three men to slip through. As the soldier he is, Reese watches as they move as a team. No movements were wasted as two of the three men removed a braided climbing rope and two different pulleys from a backpack. They attached a metal plate with two pulley wheels to a strong girder and about a foot below it, another pulley with only one wheel. One feeds a rope into the pulley system while the other takes the opposite end of the rope over to the third man.  
   
The third man attaches the rope to his climbing harness and once it’s secure, he begins climbing up one of the girders. He maneuvers himself so quickly along the girders, it has Reese comparing him to Spiderman.  
  
As the climber reaches the point above Reese, he removes a synthetic rubber sleeve that he wraps around the girder. It’s designed to protect the rope from being cut as he is lowered or pulled up. He slides off the girder, using one hand to hold himself as he places the rope on the rubber sleeve. A flick of his hand has the rope pulled taut and then he is slowly lowered down to Reese.  
  
As the rope stops his descent, he flips himself and wraps his legs around the rope. His head is pointed at the floor and a nod has him being lowered again. As he comes face to face with Reese, he smiles at Reese’s whispered, “Spiderman.”  
  
As he comes to a stop, he studies the underside of the chair and shakes his head at the seemingly simplistic design. But he has learned something so simple often is the exact opposite and usually hides a devastating secret. “Was anything removed?”  
  
“Looked like a safety pin for a grenade.”  
  
‘Spiderman,’ continues to examine the underside of the chair and finds that Reese’s weight hasn’t activated any pressure points. Nor are there any pressure points under the legs of the chair. He reaches into a pocket, removes a knife and quickly cuts the zip ties from Reese’s arm before handing the knife to Reese. “Cut yourself free, put don’t touch any of the wires.  
  
Reese begins to free himself from the zip ties. “It’s a fake?”  
  
“The chair is, not sure about the wires going into the boxes.” He removes a long wooden skewer and slips it into the recesses under the chair. Then, using both hands, he reaches under the chair and a click is heard. The maze of wires lower to the ground. “You can get out now.”  
  
“Reset it.”  
  
‘Spiderman’ looks at Reese, “What?”  
  
“We need it as a distraction.”  
  
‘Spiderman’ shakes his head, “Fine. Now move.” Reese gets up, trying not to grimace as the feeling returns to his legs as he crosses the floor. Once he’s free of the wires, ‘Spiderman’ resets the wires and removes the wooden skewer. He starts moving upwards and once he’s clear of the ground, he lets his legs swing downward.  
  
As the two men pull up ‘Spiderman’, Reese’s asks, “Weapons?” One of the men nods towards a backpack. “Thanks.”  
  
He opens the backpack, removes a pistol with a silencer and a number of ammo clips. He turns to find two of the men quickly disassembling the rappelling gear and putting it back into the other backpacks. ’Spiderman’ is examining one of the boxes that a wire juts out of.  
  
He walks over and kneels next to ‘Spiderman’ and asks. “Was it a fake?”  
  
“No.” The side of the box is opened, revealing a small explosive charge. “A bad flash bang.”  
  
“So just enough to keep us busy, but not incapacitate.”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“Well we wouldn’t want to disappoint them,” Reese watches as the realization appears in ’Spiderman’ eyes, “Now would we?”  
  
“No, we wouldn’t.” ‘Spiderman’ stands and walks over to the backpack that held the weapons and removes two small boxes. He opens one box to reveal small balls of what looks like playdoo and hands out some of them to the other men.  
  
Reese watches as the trio work in unison to attach the small balls and then small transmitters to each box. He taps his earbud, “Shaw, we’re ready.”  
  
_“Understood. Five minutes.”_  
  
“Five minutes.” ’Spiderman’ appears next to Reese and hands him a few extra small explosives. “Got a few extras.”  
  
“Thanks.” He starts to say something but is interrupted with a, “Boss said to stay and help. So,” he holds up his weapon, “where do you want us?”  
  
✶✶✶  
  
Bodil can’t quite pin down what’s bothering her as she studies the monitors in the security office. None of her extra security sensors have been activated but she knows that The Butcher is in the base. Somehow she found one of the secret entrances, but where is she.  
   
Just as every sensor she has around the server room begins signaling her cell that they have been activated, the lights begin to flicker causing the monitors to shut down. She takes a deep breath knowing that her six year hunt is about to finally end.  
  
She walks over to a cabinet, opens it and removes a tranquilizer gun. “You took the one person I cared most about. And when I’m done, you’ll wish you had never been born.”  
  
Instead of going to check on the sensors, she heads for the server room. She knows the perfect spot in the room that would let her see everything. She would let her prey come to her.  
  
✶✶✶  
  
Reese and ‘Spiderman’ are firing down the corridor drawing Greer’s security towards them and away from the server room. The small explosives had quickly garnered the attention of the guards.  
  
’Spiderman’ smiles as he fires another shot and hears a scream of pain. He glances at Reese, “Are we having fun?”  
  
“Not quite what I’d,” he fires three quick shots before reloading, “call fun.”  
  
The ricocheting bullet next to Reese’s head has him spinning around and firing three shots toward the group of guards that are coming up from behind him and ‘Spiderman.’  
  
“Think it’s time for a strategic retreat.”  
  
Reese continues firing one way as ‘Spiderman’ fires the other way. The make their way to the storage room. As they slam the door, a number of bullets ricochet off it.  
  
“We ready?”  
  
“Yep.”  
  
Reese, ‘Spiderman’ and the other two men move to the far side of the room and wait. But not for long. The door opens as the guards tentatively enter the room, their guns at the ready.  
  
One of the men takes out a detonator box and prepares to arm the charges when Reese’s hand stops him. They watch as more guards enter the room and then Reese points to the box. The man flips a switch and then pushes the button. The four men immediately cover their ears and duck their heads to protect their eyes from the flash bang.  
  
The flash is bright and the bang, even subdued, is loud enough that Reese and the other three cringe from the noise. But their reaction are mild compared to the sounds of pain coming from the security guards.  
  
Reese and the others exit the room and are standing in the corridor. He hesitates before ’Spiderman’ pushes him down the hallway. “Go. We got this.”  
  
Reese nods his head and as he moves down the corridor, he taps his earbud. “Finch, I need directions to the server room.”  
  
✶✶✶  
  
Shaw and Root enter the server room. As Shaw begins to place the blocks of C4 in strategic places around the room, Root heads for a terminal where she begins to access the program that regulates the power supply to Samaritan's servers. She is quickly writing a virus program that will cause a cascading power failure that combined with the C4 should destroy both the Samaritan program and the servers.  
  
On one of the monitor’s the word, **STOP** , appears. She ignores the monitor and continues inputing code. **STOP NOW!** Flashes on the monitor. “No, you’ve caused enough damage.” She enters the last line of code and then types, **RU** , when a phtt and a sharp pain has her vision clouding over as the fast acting tranquilizer takes effect. She tries to hit the **N** and the enter key, but her hand is refusing to listen to her brain. Even the use of her voice is gone due to the effects of the tranquilizer.  
  
Bodil appears out of the shadows, grabs Root and spins her around. She studies the face of the phantom she’s been chasing for six years. The person that’s responsible for her brothers death. The person that soon will wish they had never been born.  
  
She waits until Root is so lethargic that she can’t stop Bodil from flopping her over a shoulder. Root tries to call out. She tries to will her limbs into moving but the most she can do is send a silent cry for help as Bodil turns and exits the room.  
  
On the other side of the room Shaw suddenly stops and listens. She can hear the cooling fans on the servers, she can hear the cool air exiting the vents. It’s not what she can’t hear that has her concerned. It’s what she can’t feel and that’s Root presence.  
  
She has learned to trust her instincts and right now they are screaming at her that something has happened to Root. She drops the bag containing the remaining blocks of C4 and hastily makes her way over to the computer terminal Root had been working on. And what she finds is the incomplete attempt to activate the cascading power failure virus.  
  
Just as she types the **N** , she hears the click of a safety that has her turning her head to find Greer aiming a gun at her. “Ms. Shaw.”  
  
Shaw growls out, “Greer.”  
  
“It seems our last time together was cut a little short.”  
  
“Not as short as this time.”  
  
“We shall see.” He takes a step forward, “You may have physically escaped my colleagues but they did leave, shall we say, a parting gift.”

"And what would that be?"

Greer’s smugly states, “Aktiveer program,” has Shaw stiffening in response. He waits to make sure the deeply embedded activation code is working before asking, “Ms. Shaw, step away from that terminal.” She takes a step back, but what he doesn’t notice is the tightening of her fingers holding the gun.  
  
He walks closer to her, categorizing every nuance. And what he sees is very reassuring. The dossier from the doctor’s, in the secret prison where Shaw had been held, had no qualms that this deep of an embedded program would work, it just could take a bit for it to become fully activate. Especially with someone as strong willed as Shaw. “Who do you follow?”  
  
Shaw doesn’t answer. She simply stares straight ahead like a well trained operative.  
  
Greer’s annoyance is obvious in the harsh tenor of his voice when he asks, “Answer me Ms. Shaw, who do you follow?”  
  
Shaw fights not to answer but through clenched teeth, she grudgingly says, “I…follow…” and then goes silent.  
  
Greer prided himself on not letting his anger cloud his judgement but his anger was evident in his snarled, “Who do you follow?”  
  
His belief in Samaritan was unshakeable but it paled in comparison to what was standing before him. For in the blink of an eye, or in this case Shaw’s blinking eyes, he sees the waste of all those simulations that Shaw had endured, a waste of all the research that the doctors had compiled. He finally understands that the safe place, that the simulations never seemed to be able to destroy, was still protecting her. And if anything, it was even stronger.  
  
And if he wasn’t convinced before, Shaw’s blinding smile cemented the fact that the program, at least on her, was an abject failure.  
  
She steps forward, ignoring the gun pointed at her, and places a finger on the enter key. Her smile has Greer taking a step back as she looks at him. “Tell me Greer, who do you follow?”  
  
“Samaritan.”  
  
“Then you can follow Samaritan,” she slams the enter key, “to hell.”  
  
An anguished, “Nooo,” is followed by the crack of Greer’s weapon.  
  
Her training kicks in as she twists making her body as small as possible as she fires her own weapon at Greer. She smiles at the grunt of pain as her round hits home.  
  
She can hear the servers beginning to overload but a painful, “Aren’t you concerned about Ms. Groves whereabouts?,” garners her attention. “You of all people should know that Root can take care of herself.”  
  
“She has proven to be very resourceful. An asset I truly wish I had at my disposal.”  
  
Shaw snorts in amusement at the thought of Root ever working for Samaritan and Greer. “Been partaking in your own simulations Greer?”  
  
Greer was the ultimate survivor and knew how to take advantage of the situation to allow for a strategic retreat not only for his survival but also for Samaritan’s. In this case he needed to divert Shaw’s attention from him. And he knew exactly what or rather who that was, Ms. Groves. He softens his voice as if he was hurt far worse than he actually was, “I would be more concerned about what Bodil plans for her?”  
  
“Which would be what exactly?”  
  
Greer doesn’t need to know the driving cause for Bodil’s hatred but he has learned in his many years that often a simple insinuation can be just as useful as knowing the truth. He also needs to continue to stall Shaw until he can get closer to an exit. He continues softly speaking, “She called Ms. Groves…the Butcher.”  
  
Shaw knows exactly what Greer is attempting to do and in part it is working. “Hey Greer?”  
  
There’s a momentary pause, “What do you want Ms. Shaw?”  
  
She reaches into her pocket,“I need you to give someone a message.”  
  
“And that would be what?”  
  
She removes the detonator and activates it. “When you see,” quietly she stands, “Martine in hell,” she starts running for the door, “tell her I said hello.” Just as she slams through the door, she presses the button on the detonator.  
   
  
TBC


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14  
  
Before the door closes, Shaw launches herself down the hallway and away from the server room. She barely gets three running steps when the door behind her is blown off its hinges and is embedded into the opposite wall. The concussion from the explosion sends her skidding down the corridor.  
  
A cloud of concrete dust and electronic parts erupts through the remnants of the doorway and slam against the far wall. The cloud of dust disperses down the corridor leaving a covering over everything include a prone Shaw.  
  
Reese appears at the opposite end of the corridor. He’s coughing and waving at the dust that hangs in the air. A hoarse, “Shaw,” gets no response from the prone woman.  
  
He ducks as another explosion slams through the opening, sending more dust into the air. A loud clunk reverberates through the air as the server room door falls to the floor.  
  
A hoarse, “Damn it Shaw, answer me.” Trying to avoid the debris on the floor, he makes his way to the still unmoving Shaw. He hears a, _“Mr. Reese is Ms. Shaw alright?”_ Still coughing from the dust he responds, “She hasn’t moved. I’m trying to get to her.”  
  
_“And Ms. Groves?”_  
  
“I don’t see her.” As he passes the server room and sees the twisted frames of the servers, arcing wires and other pieces of electronics scattered everywhere, he hopes, for Shaw’s sake, Root isn’t inside.  
  
As Reese approaches, a cough is the first sign of life from his prone colleague. “Shaw?” She lifts her head and shakes it sending dust everywhere. Another cough, “Root?”  
  
He’s not surprised that Shaw’s first concern is about Root and not herself. He’s also not surprised when she stands and turns to him. “Where is she?”  
  
“She didn’t come past me. Could she still be in the…” She’s in his face, glaring and daring him to finish that statement.  
  
She slaps her ear bud and snarls, “Finch.”  
  
_“Ms. Shaw, are you..”_ He’s cut off by a brusque, “I’m fine. I need Her to track Root through her implant?”  
  
Rather than Finch, its the machine answering. _“Am attempting to locate Admin.”_  
  
_Finch’s voice is strained as he says, “I’m tracking her cell. It’s…”_  
  
“Where is it?” She can almost hear Finch swallowing heavily before he answers, _“It’s approximately one hundred feet from you.”_ She looks around and spots the cell, a fine layer of dust covering it, sitting on the floor. “Got it.” She walks over and picks it up.  
  
Reese appears next to Shaw. “Root’s a survivor. She’ll do anything she has to do to get back to you.”  
  
Shaw stares at the phone, “We both are.” She suddenly remembers something that Greer had said, “Finch, run a search on the names Bodil and The Butcher.”  
  
_“Ms. Shaw?”_  
  
“Greer said something about Bodil and her plans for Root and that this Bodil called her The Butcher.” Shaw can hear Finch typing. _“Which means she’s someone from Root’s past.”_  
  
“A past we know little about.”  
  
When most people look at Shaw, they would see, at least to them, an unemotional woman that terrified them with a single look. And mostly that was true, until Root came along. Reese had watched and was somewhat amused, though he’d never admit to it, as Root battered down the walls, around Shaw’s heart, that most had found impenetrable. But Shaw in her own quiet way, had also battered down the walls that Root had erected around her own heart.  
  
He would never forgive himself for giving up on the search to find Shaw after she sacrificed herself at the stock exchange. He should have known that if anyone could survive it would be her.  
  
And Root, well he’d never forget her anguished scream as the elevator doors closed in the stock exchange nor the haunted look she wore for months. When she returned after weeks of no communication, she was vastly different. The mischievous sparkle that was always present in her eyes, especially when she was slinging innuendos at Shaw, the lively way she walked and her deep seeded belief that Samaritan could be stopped, all but disappeared when she truly believed that they may never find Shaw. She became a haunted shell of herself.  
  
It wasn’t until after he and Root stormed a warehouse, where they were able to rescue Shaw, that the Root of old began to reappeared. She had thrown herself into finalizing the code needed to take control of the server farms and make them work as one, while also maintaining a constant vigil at Shaw’s bedside. How much she slept, he neither knew nor asked. What he did know was that she was smiling more and the mischievous sparkle, that had been missing for so long, was replacing the haunted look as Shaw’s health improved.  
  
He didn’t need to be told when Shaw awoke, he could feel the change in the atmosphere of the safe house. The dark, depressing and stagnant undercurrent changed in the blink of an eye to something more. To something promising.  
  
He wouldn’t fail this time. Even if he got a phone call from Fusco telling him Root was dead after being shot with a high powered rifle, he wouldn’t believe it until he saw the body with his own eyes. And after every conceivable medical test, including those Shaw would demand, was run to make sure Root was actually dead.  
  
He had failed Root once by giving up in the search for Shaw, he wouldn’t fail again. Even if it meant taking apart every single inch of this base.  
  
✶✶✶  
  
A slight creak and a click of a lock is the only noise a heavy metal door makes as it closes. A light floods the center of the room revealing the old Air Force gun battery. In the middle of the room are the skeletal remains of the framework that once held one of the 16-inch naval guns that had been installed as an on shore battery.  
  
Root lays on her back. Chains, glistening with their newness, are fastened to her wrists. Her eyes flutter open but the main effects of the tranquilizer are still keeping her from moving and for the most part her senses are still muddled. She thinks she sees something or was it someone moving around but she can’t be entirely sure.  
  
She splutters when water is slowly poured on her head. As she tries to get away from the water, the stream of water follows her. She tries to block the water with her hands but she can barely move them from the tranquilizer and the chains. Then the water stops.  
  
An emotionless, “Why?” echoes through the room. “Tell me why?”  
  
Root works her jaw trying to loosen up her muscles. Her voice still effected by the remnants of the tranquilizer, “Why…what?”  
  
She groans as she’s suddenly jerked upward by the chains with her arms taking most of her weight. Her legs are refusing to support her and relieve the stress on her arms.  
  
As she watches Root struggle to get her legs to work, Bodil hesitates. She finally has the Butcher where she wants her and the first thought she has is that Hávarðr wouldn’t want her to take revenge for his death. But then she remembers that fateful day.  
  
_How she had bolted up right when a sharp pain slammed into her stomach. How every instinct she had was screaming at her that something had happened to Hávarðr. How she frantically searched his computer to find where he had gone. How she had rushed to the cafe, getting there just in time to see a body bag being brought out._  
  
_She remembers sneaking into the morgue, opening the cabinet door and pulling her brother’s lifeless body out. How scared, even in death, he looked. She remembered their struggles to survive as kids and now wonders how she can live without him._  
  
_That night she broke into the cafe and stood there staring at the blood where he had died. Suddenly Oleg was standing next to her. She can hear the pain in his voice when he reminds her what needs to be done. “Whoever took him from us must be made to pay.”_  
  
_She kneels and places one hand in the dried blood and swears that she will find who did this and they will, eventually, pay with their life. Her tears mix with his dried blood._  
  
_Oleg removes a handkerchief and swirls it in the tears and blood. He folds it and places it in Bodil’s hand and close her fingers over it. She remembers him telling her, “For when you need to remember why you’re on this journey.”_  
  
Root shakes her head to try and clear more of the cobwebs. She’s finally getting her legs back and releasing the stress on her arms. Her mind is racing trying to figure out who this person is and, more importantly, how she’s going to get out of these chains.  
  
She tries to turn her head when a, “All I want to know is why?,” comes from behind her. But the chains are limiting her movement. But her snarky wit is back, “Why Samaritan won’t win?” A gasp of pain is her reward when Bodil steps up behind her and slams her fist into Root’s kidney.  
  
Bodil leans closer, whispering in Root’s ear, “That pain you’re feeling, it’s only the beginning. Soon you’ll be begging me…”  
  
“I don’t beg.”  
  
Root gasps in pain after Bodil administers two more quick kidney punches. The chains clank as her legs buckle and another moan of pain is heard when her shoulders are forced to once again take the brunt of her weight. Her head is wrenched back by her hair and an angry, “We shall see,” wafts past her ear.  
  
Her head snaps forward when not only does Bodil release her grip, she shoves Root’s head forward. A soft sigh of relief escapes as she slumps as far as the chains will allow her. She works hard to keep the pain out of her voice as she asks, “What did Greer offer you?” With no response from Bodil, she continues, “What ever he promised you, he won’t honor it.”  
  
“He has little choice.” If Root had been able to see Bodil clearly, she would have seen the shock on her face when Root, being Root, does the exact opposite that anyone would do in this situation, she begins laughing. “Greer’s already won if you believe that.”  
  
A snarled, “Do you think I’m so much of a fool to be deceived by the likes of someone like Greer?”  
  
Root coughs, “Greer is very astute at offering exactly the right motivation to add allies. He offered you all the power of Samaritan, if you took care of a little problem for him…me.”  
  
For the first time in a very long time, Bodil laughs. “Then you would be wrong. He traded his life, for now, for yours.”  
  
One of Root’s many talents was her ability to get people to talk, to tell their secrets often without them realizing what they were doing, until it was too late. Now she knew that this woman wanted her and Greer dead. But the question is why. “What did Greer do to you?” Bodil refuses to answer but Root continues to talk. “Then it was someone you cared about. A sibling?” She barely utters the last word before Bodil is standing in front of her and slamming a fist into her sternum knocking the air of her.  
  
Bodil walks around, waiting, and just as Root regains her breath, a fist again slams into her kidney. A strangled scream erupts from her and continues as more punches collide with flesh and bone.  
  
✶✶✶  
  
Shaw stares at the phone in her hand and then abruptly storms past Reese and starts to enter the server room but Reese’s, “Shaw, where…,” has her stopping. What he sees in her eyes, was far worse and far more terrifying than anything he has ever witnessed. And this look has him unconsciously taking a step back.  
  
After Shaw enters the server room, Reese taps his ear bud, “Finch anything?”  
  
_“I’ve found a Bodil that was found missing from a Norwegian freighter.”_  
  
“Missing how?”  
  
_"She wasn’t on board when Customs ran the crew and the passengers through immigration.”_  
  
“Any pictures?”  
  
_“Nothing. The crew and the other passengers aren’t even sure they ever saw.”_  
  
“She’s a ghost.”  
  
_“So it would seem.”_  
  
Shaw strides over the debris, searching for one thing and one thing only, Greer. But what she finds is good news, but not what she wanted, a blood trail. She follows the blood, pulling hanging electronics down and throwing them out of her way with a vengeance. The trail suddenly dead ends at a wall.  
  
If looks could terrorize a metal wall, Shaw’s would have not only burn a hole in it, it would have had the wall shriveling up, popping its rivets, and running away as fast as a metal wall could.  
  
Reese stands nearby but doesn’t impede Shaw’s search. She begins knocking on various parts of the wall until she finds an area that gives slightly. Pushing harder, the wall opens inward revealing another hidden passage. The blood trail resumes but before she enters, she freezes when The Machine begins talking to her. She blocks out everything, even Reese asking, “Shaw?,” to concentrate. _“Interference creating intermittent Admin’s signal.”_  
  
“Can you contact her?”  
  
_“Unsure if admin is receiving.”_  
  
Reese can almost see all the possibilities racing through Shaw’s brain. And rather than impede her, he simply steps away and taps his ear bud. “Finch?”  
  
_“Mr. Reese?”_  
  
“Shaw’s found a hidden passage in the server room that Greer may be using to escape.”  
  
_“Elias was right about it being a place with a great number of secrets.”_  
  
“Send a message to Elias’ men to send ‘Spiderman’ to the server room.”  
  
_“Spiderman?”_  
  
“Long story. I’ll tell you later.”  
  
_“Mr. Reese, it would be rather unfortunate…if Mr. Greer were to escape with a backup of Samaritan.”_  
  
Now that statement was not what he ever had expected to hear from Finch. But this war had changed everyone. “Understood Finch.”  
  
Reese turns his attention back to Shaw as he waits for ‘Spiderman’ to join him. From the amount of blood, Greer was injured, but not gravely. Regardless, injured or not, Greer was a dangerous man.  
  
“Last strong location?”  
  
_“Outside.”_  
  
“Send the coordinates to Root’s phone.” The phone barely pings before Shaw’s opening the location. She knows exactly where it is and why The Machine is having trouble communicating with Root.  
  
She turns to Reese but before she can say anything he hands her one of ’Spiderman’s’ small explosives and the detonator box. Then says, “Go.” As she starts to walk past him, she stops and looks at him. What he sees is proof that the Shaw of old, the uncaring, unemotional woman was no more. That woman was beyond threatening but this Shaw, this Shaw was danger personified. He almost felt sorry for this Bodil for she has no idea what is about to be unleashed. And if Root was badly injured, or worse, he wasn’t expecting there to be much left when Shaw finished with her.  
  
Animal experts have always said that the most dangerous animal was a mother protecting their children and he believed it…until now. What stood before him, the waves of anger rolling off of her, would have had the angriest polar bear cowering in fear. There’s little he can say except, “She’s a fighter. Now go and get her back.” Shaw nods and leaves the server room. He can hear the anger and the fear in each one of her running footsteps.  
  
War always has casualties but there are some losses that are far more devastating. And if Root were to die, he’s not sure how this new version of Shaw would react.  
  
✶✶✶  
  
Greer staggers down the narrow passageway. He had begun moving as soon as Shaw had said, ‘Hey Greer.’ The hidden door had barely opened when the first explosion threw him into it. He felt at least three ribs break and the gash on his head, as most head wounds do, was bleeding profusely. The bullet from Shaw's weapon that had hit him in the shoulder wasn't debilitating but unfortunately he had left a blood trail for anyone to follow.  
  
His injuries weren’t, for the moment, his primary concern. Samaritan’s survival was paramount. He had survived all these years by knowing how to manipulate the situation around him. On occasion, though it rarely happened, he was surprised by certain people. And The Machine’s protectors determination, against all odds, to fight was a revelation.  
  
Once Root’s abilities had come to his attention, he was impressed with the limited information he was able to gather about her. His respect for her grew with her dogged determination to find Shaw. She let nothing and no-one stand in her way and the swath of destruction she had cut was impressive. And to find out, she and her friends had created on the fly a way to make it appear Shaw had died, was even more impressive.  
  
His respect continued to grow with the subterfuge she had used to get inside the compound. And the virus, that according to his experts wasn’t possible, worked and worked well.  
  
And Shaw, well he wished there were more like her, but of course working for him. Even in the simulation reality, she had constantly been forced to relive, she had fought and fought hard. Her will to survive was, to say the least, astonishing.  
  
The Doctors were amazed, even with every new tweak to the simulation, they failed. They knew that she had a deeply imbedded safe place but were never able to break it or her.  
  
But each simulation had imbedded an experimental brainwashing command that when activated should give Greer full control of the subject. For a split second it seemed to work on Shaw, but he couldn’t be completely sure.  
  
But now was not the time to contemplate those temporary setbacks. His more immediate concern was retrieving the backup to Samaritan and escaping. And unless he got moving, he wouldn’t be escaping, except into a pine box.  
  
✶✶✶  
  
Root is barely standing, her head bowed as she draws in ragged breaths. Blood from a deep cut on her cheekbone covers one side of her face and is dripping onto the floor and each splat of blood is taking away some of the pain. And by the pool of blood on the floor, she was in a lot of pain.  
  
Whoever this woman was, she was an expert. Every punch was thrown with precision to inflict the most pain possible.  
  
A slight tingle in her implant and the staticky, _“Sha…ay,”_ hopefully means that Shaw would soon be here. She simply needed to survive and that was something she was good at.  
  
“I’ve,” she grimaces at the pain talking is causing, “hurt a lot of people in my past.”  
  
Shaw has stopped in front of a door that has the barely discernible remnants of words. The first line had the letters, M..i…ns.  The second line had the letters, .x…..ves. She quietly opens the door, enters and finds the light switch. And to her surprise, as it was to Bodil, the lights work.  
  
Shaw pauses at the old shells and studies them. She carefully places ‘Spiderman’s” small explosive on one of the primers that has quite a bit of a mustard-colored staining and activates it. This staining means these shells are more susceptible to exploding with the lightest of touches.  
  
What she’s looking for is in the next room, the elevator that would take the munitions up to one of the 16 inch shore guns. As she enters the room, she hears from above, Bodil’s angry response to something that Root has said, **“You didn’t hurt me, you destroyed my life.”**  
  
**“And Samaritan will destroy even more lives.”**  
  
Shaw studies the old elevator, rusted and falling apart, that was used for raising the shells, as she continues to listen to what’s being said in the space above her. She softly whispers, “Root. I’m coming.”  
  
She begins climbing, testing each hand hold before putting weight on the rusted metal. The last thing she or Root needed was her to announce she was coming or worse for her to fall, dooming them both.  
  
Bodil grabs Roots jaw, wrenching it upward to stare into her eyes. “I don’t care about Samaritan or its plans. You are the only thing I’m concerned with. You will pay for what you’ve done.”  
  
Regardless of the pain that is coursing through her body, Root’s inherent fighting instincts flare to life. The anger is evident when she snarls out, “This person that I hurt, was it a double dealing CEO? No. Perhaps someone that was being blackmailed and wanted their blackmailer removed permanently? No. Was it a polluter that wanted the obstacles for them to pollute more, removed? No.” There’s no response from Bodil.  
  
Shaw continues to slowly climb upwards while wishing Root, for once, would just shut up. But of course, she doesn’t. **“Then who was** **it?”** What she hears next is a fist slamming into Root and her anguish cry. She grits her teeth, swearing that this Bodil is going to regret hurting Root, that’s her prerogative. She continues to climb forgoing safety and silence to get to Root faster.  
  
“You killed my brother,” Bodil pauses letting Root see all of the anguish and pain that has been building for the past six plus years, “Radicle.”  
  
Root’s eyes widen at the name she hasn’t heard or even used since that fateful day in Oslo. She remembers the events of that day as if it had just happened. She whispers the name, “Thor,” and her head rocks to one side as Bodil’s fist connects to her already cut cheek. The cut widens and fresh blood begins to seep out.  
  
“You have no right to say his name.”  
  
Root struggles to talk, “I didn’t kill him.”  
  
“You’re lying.” Bodil pokes Root’s chest, “You were there.”  
  
“I was. I tried to stop the bleeding until the paramedics got there, but I didn’t kill him.”  
  
“Liar. You wanted him to stop his search…”  
  
“…on rumors about an AI program. Except I was following the same rumors.”  
  
Bodil raises her fist to strike again but stops when Root says, “If I killed him, why would he have given me his access codes.”  
  
“You stole them, just like you stole his life.”  
  
Root’s soft, “He lost his life but indirectly saved my life,” freezes Bodil in place. “How?”  
  
Shaw is near the top of the elevator when she hears Root’s response of, **“When we exited the cafe, he was shot by a sniper. He fell into me, knocking me out of the way. I dragged him into the cafe.”** In a flash Shaw remembers that day in _Oslo her target exiting the cafe with a brunette, her shot connecting, her target falling and taking the brunette with him, the second sniper firing, what she thought at the time, indiscriminately into the crowd, her shooting the second sniper and then casually leaving the hotel room._ She was responsible for killing Bodil’s brother and Root was taking the brunt of that misdirected anger.  
  
There is nothing but silence as Bodil stares at the ground trying to reconcile what Root has said with the evidence she remembers gathering. She knew her brother’s death was a cleverly crafted coverup and if she is to believe what Root has said, the ‘overdose victim’ discovered on the roof of a building overlooking the cafe was a sniper sent to either kill her brother or Root.  
  
She walks away from Root and removes the handkerchief stained with Hávarðr’s dried blood from her pocket and stares at it. Had she been chasing the wrong person this entire time? And if Root wasn’t the Butcher, as she claims, then who killed her brother?  
  
A calming feeling, that makes every ache and pain recede, comes over Root. She turns her head to one side, being careful to not rattle the chains, and meets the caring eyes of her other half. How she got here, she doesn’t know, but she’s here.  
  
She watches as those caring eyes turn angry. Now she can feel the anger radiating off her in waves and almost feels sorry, for Bodil is about to face Shaw’s wrath.  
  
“Because of you, he went to the cafe.” Root shifts her focus back to Bodil, who is still staring at the handkerchief, “Because of you, he’s dead.”  
  
“I…” Bodil’s angry, “Shut up.” has Root for once listening to common sense and closing her mouth. “You may have not pulled the trigger,” Bodil glares at Root, “but you’re still responsible for his death. And for that you will die.”  
  
Bodil turns when she hears an unexpected chuckle and a “You’ll have to go through me first,” coming from the far edge of the room.  
  
“Who the hell are you?”  
  
As Shaw walks closer, the waves of anger that are radiating off of her has Bodil taking a step back. Shaw stops in front of Root, needing the affirmation with her own eyes that Root may be injured but she’s still very much alive. What she gets is a nod that everything’s okay. This nod is so different from the one on the New York street when they had been forced to separate after their identities had been compromised. That was a goodbye nod, a stay alive nod, a maybe, if we’re lucky, see you again nod.  
  
“Who am I?” Shaw’s eyes go emotionless, her jaw tightens as she dips her head and turns towards Bodil. In a voice dearth of emotion, that even has Root’s eyes widening, she says,  “I’m the one who shot your brother.” She starts walking towards Bodil, “And I’m the one who’s gonna…kick…your…ass.”  
  
  
  
TBC  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15  
  
Bodil’s emotions were on a roller coaster ride. She had finally captured the person she held responsible for her brother’s death only to learn that she may have been wrong this entire time. And if she believed Radicle’s story, Hávarðr not only saved her life but was also still alive inside the cafe when she left.  
  
Radicle or Root or whatever she was calling herself, may not have killed her brother but she still holds her responsible. Adding to the onslaught on her emotions was Shaw’s unexpected appearance claiming she was the one that shot Hávarðr.  
  
And now this Shaw, which according to Greer’s files was a former freelance assassin, was threatening to kick her ass. What she didn’t know, was that Greer had carefully crafted the files on Shaw, Root, Reese and Fusco to make it appear they were the true danger. That they worked for a consortium of government and business interests that were determined to keep the good that Samaritan offered from ever reaching the world that so desperately needed it.  
  
Six plus years of pain and frustration over her brother’s death, her emotions had finally reached their breaking point, “What did my brother ever do to you?”  
  
Bodil was expecting, he compromised national security or he diverted money, from consortium companies, to programs and sanctuaries that help those that needed it the most. Or his hacking revealed secrets that powerful companies, individuals and nations didn’t want disclosed. What she got was far worse and further battered her emotions.  
  
An emotionless, “Nothing.”  
  
The rage that roared through her come out in a strangled snarl, “Nothing? Nothing?” Her emotions finally snapped and overrode every bit of training and control she had on her emotions. Her eyes narrow, her hands clench in anger, then she launches herself at Shaw.  
  
Shaw steps forward with her right leg, turns slightly using her left arm to block Bodil’s right handed punch and then slams her right forearm into Bodil’s exposed ribs, who grunts in pain.  
  
In one continuous, well practiced movement, Shaw slips under Bodil’s arm, slamming her right elbow into her back and knocking her off balance.  
  
Rather than fighting to try and stay up right, Bodil drops to the ground and immediately tries to sweep Shaw’s legs out from under her. To her surprise, the other woman simply jumps up allowing Bodil’s leg to connect with nothing but air.  
  
She allows the momentum of her leg to swing her around and up to her feet. She’s meant by three quick body shots into her exposed back that has her doubling over in pain. Before she can react, she’s grabbed by her shirt, spun and thrown into the air, her back slamming into the wall hard enough to force all of the air out of her lungs. She slides down the wall, landing in a heap on the floor.  
  
Root watches the the two women. She’s seen Sameen fight enough to know that her anger isn’t over the shooting of Bodil’s brother, but the beating she’s taken. It’s been this way between them since Shaw had stopped the Vigilance gunmen from killing her after they helped Jason Greenfield escape from a CIA black site. She wasn’t surprised by Shaw’s punch that day, she kind of expected it, since she had tasered her, threatened her and coerced her into helping her during their ‘sightseeing tour of the city.’  
  
Waking up in the Faraday Cage, well that wasn’t expected. But there was an unanticipated side benefit, it gave her time to think about this sudden onslaught of feelings toward Shaw. It also allowed Shaw’s curiosity to grow, though she’d deny that that was the reason she kept checking on Root’s presence in the cage.  
  
Root always knew whenever Shaw was watching even though she always stayed on the periphery of the cage and mostly out of Root’s sight. It took a great amount of self control on her part not to react anytime Shaw was near the cage.  
  
She shifts slightly, biting back a groan of pain from the movement, trying to be as quiet as possible. She needs to get to the metal frame work that stands nearby. If she can, it should create enough slack for her to be able to coat one wrist with blood from the gash on her cheek. As much as she admires watching Shaw work, she needs to free herself before she becomes anymore of a liability.  
  
Bodil gets to her hands and knees, her breath ragged as the air returns to her lungs. This respite, as brief as it was, gave her time to get her emotions under control and she needed this control. This woman was far more dangerous than Greer’s guards or even what she had read in Shaw’s file.  
  
A slight grimace is the only indication of pain as Bodil stands. She turns to Shaw and smiles the same smile she had when she had confronted the first two guards. It was a smile that meant she was going to enjoy inflicting pain. It was a smile that said she was going to make Shaw watch as she resumed punishing the woman she called the Butcher. It was a smile that had most people quaking in their boots and running away as fast as possible.  
  
“You do know the three rules of fighting?”  
  
Shaw quirks her lips. Did this woman really think that talking was going to distract her? But she decides to play along. “And they would be?”  
  
“They’re very simple.” She holds up a finger, “Rule one, there are no rules.” She holds up a second finger, “Rule two, never, ever, get in a fight with someone who doesn’t care what happens to them.”  
  
Root barely suppresses a laugh when she hears rule two. This woman has no idea who she’s in a fight with. She glances at Shaw and reads the amusement her body is displaying, if you knew how to read her body language. And reading Shaw’s body language…well it was something Root specialized in. It was something she intended to spend the rest of her life relearning over and over again.  
  
Shaw crosses her arms and lifts one eyebrow, “And rule three?”  
  
“See rules one and,” Bodil charges Shaw as she says, “two.”  
  
Root continues to try and pull her blood covered wrist through the chain while also watching Shaw fight. She winces from flesh slamming into flesh and the grunts of pain, mostly coming from Thor’s sister.  
  
Normally letting your emotions cloud your judgement was never an effective technique for a long fight against a capable opponent. Shaw was not, even her Marine instructors would agree, the typical opponent. Emotions, like ammunition, if not used correctly, were quickly depleted.  
  
Shaw blocks another punch, but Bodil is learning and quickly at that. She thrusts her knee upwards into Shaw’s stomach forcing Shaw to release the block. She spins on the ball of her foot, her leg connects with Shaw’s stomach throwing her backwards until she slams into the wall. She hits the wall hard enough that the impact is enough to knock her ear bud to the ground and the detonator box slips out of her pocket and lands on the floor.  
  
But to Bodil’s surprise the only thing she hears is a grunt, as the air rushes out of Shaw. She’s shocked when Shaw’s downward momentum abruptly stops and the glare that is staring at her has her taking an involuntary step back.  
  
Bodil had been well trained by Oleg, but she had never fought someone like Shaw. Someone who not only was simply absorbing the power of every blow and returning it in kind, but getting stronger with each punch Bodil landed. She was also learning that Shaw was far more complicated than a simple assassin.  
  
“How much?” Draws out a flicker of confusion from Shaw. “How much,” she steps toward Shaw, “was your fee to kill my brother?”  
  
Shaw pushes off the wall, shrugging her shoulders, “Does it matter?” She brushes off her shoulders, arms and any other place Bodil had managed to hit her. Every flick of her hand was implying that these hits were as insignificant as the dust on her coat that she was casually wiping away.  
  
She could have tried to explain that she was simply a soldier following orders, that she had remorse and it would all be true. Except her remorse wasn’t over the shooting it was over the punishment Root had endured because of her actions.  
  
Shaw begins walking towards Bodil, enticing her to make a move and she does. She throws a punch that Shaw goes to block when Bodil pulls the punch, spins in the opposite direction, slips behind Shaw and quickly puts her in a sleeper hold.  
  
Shaw fights the hold but Bodil is arching her backwards reducing her options. Being shorter in stature and being a woman, Shaw has learned that most bigger opponents used their superior size, and their supposed superior strength, to try and subdue her. It was a mistake, one Bodil was about to learn.  
  
She leans forward as if she was trying to break the hold, and waits until Bodil pulls her upright. As soon as she feels Bodil shift her weight backwards, it’s then when she reacts. She uses the momentum Bodil has created to throw her legs up and whip her entire body over the other woman’s head, breaking the hold.  
  
Her feet barely touch the ground before she jumps in the air slamming both feet into Bodil’s back driving her forward. As soon as her feet hit the ground, she’s moving forward slamming fist after fist into Bodil’s back. She ducks an elbow, throws a punch, ducks another elbow that is quite a bit slower than the first. She takes advantage of Bodil’s exposed side and throws two hard jabs causing the other woman to gasp for air.  
  
As Bodil leans forward from the power of the blows, Shaw slides around to one side, grabs Bodil’s head, jerking it downward and into her rapidly raised knee. She can feel the cartilage in Bodil’s nose breaking, can feel the blood drenching her knee and the scream of agony is music to her ears.  
  
Not allowing Bodil any time to recover, she grabs her arm, wrenches it behind her back, spins them around and propels both of them towards the wall.  
  
Root cringes from the scream that is abruptly cut off when Bodil is driven face first into the wall leaving a bloody smear. She watches as Shaw arches back just enough to allow Bodil’s body to come off the wall before she drives her hard back into the wall. The sound of a bone snapping is loud in the room.  
  
Shaw didn’t know anything about Hávarðr other than the basic information in his file. But if Root was meeting with him, and if they were both following the same AI rumors as Root said they were, then the odds were good they were on the same side. She blocks a weakly thrown elbow and slams that arm into the wall, pinning it there, pulling another groan from Bodil.  
  
“Greer wants to use Samaritan to manipulate and control the choices of every person in the world.” She waits, letting Bodil think about what she just said, before asking, “Would your brother have wanted that?”  
  
A weak and painful, “No.”  
  
She keeps Bodil pinned against the wall letting her contemplate everything before leaning in closer. Her voice, laced with emotions, but so cold that it drops the temperature in the room and sends an icy shiver of fear racing through Bodil’s body as she says, “You ever come near Root again,” she wrenches Bodil’s arm upward again causing another scream of agony, “you’ll have more than a broken nose,” she pulls Bodil off the wall, “and a broken collarbone to deal with.”  
  
Shaw slams Bodil again into the wall and the sudden dead weight means the woman is no longer an immediate threat. She releases her and watches as the unconscious woman slides down the wall, leaving a smear of blood on the wall, and lands on the detonator box, crushing it.  
  
Shaw stares at the woman before crouching down, checking for a pulse. Satisfied that Bodil’s still alive, she grasps her shoulder and lifts her up just enough to pull out the crushed detonator box. She disconnects the battery that is dangling out one side before stuffing everything into a partially torn pocket. She stands and starts towards Root.  
  
Root smirks as Shaw walks up to her, “Hey sweetie, are you through playing?” Shaw shakes her head at the innuendos Root is able to toss even after being beaten up. “I was going to help you, but…” She studies the chains that Root hasn’t been able to slip out of, “being tied up looks good on you.”  
  
“You always say the nicest things.”  
  
Shaw simply shakes her head and walks over to where the chains are attached and slowly releases the tension so that Root has time to regain her balance. She hears an inhale of pain that Root tries to quash, but isn’t quite able to.  
  
As Root’s legs start to take her full weight, they buckle. But before she crashes to the ground she feels the comforting warmth of Shaw’s arms wrapping around her body and lowering to a sitting position on the ground. She leans back into and draws strength from lithe body that’s supporting her.  
  
As the adrenaline wears off, the pain begins to amplify. She closes her eyes, listening to and feeling the vibrations as Shaw works to unlock the chains on her wrists. She had felt pain. For anyone in her line of work, pre Machine and now, it was an occupational hazard. In fact…”Stop thinking so much.”  
  
Her eyes open to find Shaw, no Sameen cupping her face, the concern over her well being clearly visible. But more important was… a finger over her lips stops her from talking. “I ran the program and then blew the C4.”  
  
She leans into the warmth of the hands on her face, that are helping to keep the worst of the pain away, before asking, “Greer?”  
  
“Reese is following him.” Sameen stands keeping her arms around Root until she is somewhat steady on her feet. She lifts an arm and places it over her shoulder as her other arm stays wrapped around Root’s waist.  
  
Root grits her teeth from the searing pain that roars through her body with every step. She’s determine to walk out on her own feet but with each step, she’s having to rely more and more on Shaw’s strength to keep her moving.  
  
As they slowly pass Bodil, Root nods towards the still prone woman,  “What about your…friend?”  
  
Shaw barely glances at Bodil, her concern is for the woman, who’s strength she can feel waning, that means so much to her. Her arm tightens without thought as she takes more of Root’s weight. “We’ve…come to an understanding.” She can feel the chuckle and the grimace of pain it causes in Root, who leans in and says, “Understanding? Sweetie, you just threatened to…”  
  
“Do you ever shut up?” Shaw rolls her eyes and quirks her lips at the innuendo that’s bound to come.  
  
“I thought you liked it when I was…” She kisses Shaw’s ear, “Vocal.”  
  
“Where’s a zip tie and a gag when you need them.” She tightens her grip around the chuckling Root. Each step is agonizing but each step meant they were one step closer to getting out.  
  
✶✶✶  
  
Reese is shifting through the remains of some of the circuit boards that were less damaged. He’s snapping pictures of serial numbers and bar codes to help backtrack where the servers had been made. Perhaps they were just normal servers that had been diverted by Greer or had some of them been built specifically for use by Samaritan. Either way Finch, or their new allies, could use the information to track down more of Greer’s network and then dismantle it using inside and outside sources.  
  
‘Spiderman’ enters the server room, his eyes widening at the destruction.  “Whoa, Shaw is good.”  
  
Reese looks over at ‘Spiderman’ and he does something he rarely does, he chuckles, “She’s a woman of many talents.” He stands and nods for ’Spiderman’ to follow him over to the hidden passage Greer had used. He pushes the panel open. “You have any idea where this leads to?”  
  
‘Spiderman’ studies the passageway, “It a maintenance tunnel.  It should come out near the loading docks.”  
  
“Should?”  
  
‘Spiderman’ shrugs his shoulders. “There are other passageways that branch off but most of them are kinda blocked.” He notices the blood on the floor. “With the guy you’re following injured, he’s gonna want to take the easiest route.”  
  
“Kinda blocked?”  
  
“Never know when a kinda blocked exit will be needed.” He pulls his weapon waiting for Reese to enter the passageway and when he doesn’t, ‘Spiderman’ does. He looks at Reese and smiles, “Haven’t had this much fun in a while.”  
  
Reese moans, “The male version of Shaw.” He enters the passageway with his weapon drawn.  
  
✶✶✶  
  
Greer pauses at a large pile of stone in one of the ‘kinda blocked’ passageways. He pushes on a stone and the entire pile swings inward revealing a debris cleared passageway. As he walks through the opening, it closes behind him.  
  
Some would say it was luck that he had found this base with its subterranean structure, but they would be wrong. There were bases like this all over the world that most in government either didn’t know of their existence, had simply forgotten about them or official records had them deactivated and dismantled.  
  
Money worked wonders and if money didn’t work, blackmail had always proved to be an effective means to get what he wanted. Greer had used both to make bases, at least on paper, disappear.  
  
He pushes open another door and enters the boarded up base exchange store. He walks over to freezer that has been partly demolished by party goers and and others that had been looking for secrets on the base. He pulls on the kicked in access panel that protects the compressor and instead of the compressor he removes the toolbox that contained the backup drive for Samaritan.  
  
He opens the box and the bevy of green lights means that each of the drives are functioning as they were designed to. He reaches into the compressor opening and pulls out an encrypted sat phone, turns it on and punches in a number.  
  
Any good operative had escape plans in place if and when they were needed. That’s why he had hidden the backup drives far away from the servers where only he knew their location. He wouldn’t be caught frantically downloading Samaritan while his enemies were closing in on him. There would be no repeat of the compound disaster.  
  
The sat phone beeps that it has completed the connection. He hears a, _“Sir?”_ And he answers with, “Priority one pickup. Alternative site Beta two Charlie one.”  
  
_“Confirmed priority one, Beta two Charlie one. ETA 10.”_  
  
Greer ends the call. He takes the time to set more plans in motion. As soon as the next call connects, he begins giving orders, “Activate Beta site to full operational mode immediately. Redirect all diverted shipments to Omega storage site until needed. ETA to Beta site 5 hours.” As soon as he gets a confirmation on his orders, he ends the call and destroys the phone.  
  
The last encounter with the Machine had been eye opening. He had been smug in the belief that the superiority of Samaritan would, eventually, sweep away any and all resistance and there would be resistance from governments, corporations and the so called watch dog groups. All new ideas face fear when they threaten the status quo. What he had not expected was the determined opposition to what Samaritan offered.  
  
Once he reached the beta site, he would take care of the Machine’s human compatriots. They had proved to be to much of a thorn to him and Samaritan. Contracts would be issued that would be irresistible to any assassin, wanna be assassin or someone that wanted to make their name. Root, Shaw, Finch and Reese would be kept so busy fighting off these attempts on their lives they wouldn’t have the time to come after him or Samaritan.  
  
✶✶✶  
  
Finch stops typing when multiple maps begin to appear on the monitors. Over the speakers he hears an encrypted voice that was recorded from a sat phone. Until the encryption is broken, he has no idea what’s being said.  
  
He taps his ear bud, “Mr. Reese?”  
  
_“Yeah Finch."_  
  
“What is your location?  
  
_“I’m in the passageway that Greer took.”_  
  
“You need to get to the surface as fast as possible. I believe Greer may have activated an escape plan.”  
  
_“Do you know where he is?”_  
  
A map of the Camp Hero Park appears on a monitor with a blip at the Exchange Store.  
  
“He’s at the Exchange Store.” Finch can hear Reese asking someone how far away they are.  
  
_“Finch, there’s a short cut to that location. We’ll be there in less than 5.”_  
  
Over the speakers he hears Greer’s voice, _“Priority one pickup. Alternative site Beta two Charlie one.”_  
  
And then another voice, _“Confirmed priority one, Beta two Charlie one. ETA 10.”_  
  
What Finch hears next, is the second sat call that Greer had made and it has him sitting up straighter, his eyes widening with this new information. _“Activate Beta site to full operational mode immediately. Redirect all diverted shipments to Omega storage site until needed. ETA to Beta site 5 hours.”_  
  
The Machine has relayed Greer’s audio to Reese and to Root.  
  
“Please hurry Mr. Reese. Time is of the essence.”  
  
_“Understood.”_  
  
✶✶✶  
  
Root stops walking, forcing Shaw to stop. She tilts her head to one side as She talks to her, “Greer’s trying to escape.”  
  
Shaw goes to tap her ear bud and finds she must have lost it in the fight with Bodil. Well it wasn’t the first time nor would it be the last time she went without. “From where?”  
  
“He’s at the Exchange store.”  
  
Shaw looks around and knows that if she cut through the woods she could be there in less than 5 minutes but there’s no way that Root is going to be able to move that fast. Every possible scenario is being analyzed until she hears, “Go.”  
  
Angry eyes lock onto Root’s, “I am not leaving you again.”  
  
They’re both remembering when Root had been shot and then captured by Control. The drug cocktail Root had been subjected too, the torture and the removal of the Stapes Bone in her right ear.  
  
“You know in my present condition, I’ll slow you down.”  
  
Root painfully shuffles to Shaw and cups her face. “We have to stop him at all costs.” Seeing the hesitation in her lover’s face, Root kisses her hard. “I’ll be here when you get back. Now go.”  
  
Root meets Shaw’s stare with one of her own. Promises are made and accepted. Shaw nods her head, turns and takes off running through the woods. A small branch snags one of her pockets further ripping it. The detonator box and battery fall to the forest floor.  
  
Root watches Shaw until she can’t see her any more. She would love nothing better than to be there when Greer is stopped but in her condition, it’s not possible. Bodil had been highly efficient with her punches.  
  
She hobbles over to a tree and leans against it and slowly slides to the ground. Her eyes close as the pain and all the walking have finally caught up with her.  
  
✶✶✶  
  
Bodil’s arm twitches as she gradually becomes aware of her surroundings and realizes that she’s alone. As she shifts, her broken collarbone moves and has her grinding her teeth to keep from screaming. Pain was good, it meant she was still alive to fight another day. She and Shaw would meet again, that she promised herself.  
  
She pushes herself to her knees and grits her teeth as she grabs her right arm with her left and pulls until she has her right arm clasped to her chest. Beads of sweat are coursing down her face as she tucks into a half ball while on her knees from the pain.  
  
Still gritting her teeth, she slowly lifts her head and looks around the room. She sees nothing nor hears anything except the sound of her painful breathing. As her eyes fall to the floor in front of her, there are pieces of electronics and other debris from what she’s not sure. She picks it up for further study. Maybe there will be something in it that will lead her to Shaw. But, for now, it will have to wait.  
  
She grits her teeth as she forces herself upward until she’s standing with her feet in a wide stance for balance. Her breathing is harsh, raspy and painful. She knows from the pain that her shoulder is dislocated and that her collarbone is broken. Her nose is also broken and the rest of her is badly bruised. She would deal with her injuries later.  
  
She had learned to trust her instincts and they were telling her, no they were screaming at her that she needed to get out of the former gun battery. Slowly she begins walking towards the door, and like Root, grimacing with each step.  
  
At the doorway, she pauses and leans against it to allow her a moment to catch her breath. But she doesn’t stop for long before she’s forcing herself to resume walking. She needs to get as far away as possible before any of Shaw’s friends show up.  
  
  
  
TBC


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16  
  
Shaw’s flying over the rough terrain as if she was wearing wings. She’s darting around the various types of vegetation, jumping rocks and simply running through the young growth trees. She can feel the aches from her fight with Bodil but it’s not just her determination, and plain stubbornness, that are fueling her speed. It’s her driving need to get back to Root and that meant stopping Greer once and for all. She still owed him for the thousands of simulations that she had been forced to endure, for the thousands of times she had killed herself to keep Root safe. He owed her for the abuse, that those so called Doctor’s said was all in the name of research. He simply owed far more than he could ever repay.  
  
In the distance, she can hear the faint approach of a Black Hawk helicopter. From the sound of the pulsating blades, the pilot was pushing the bird almost to it’s limits.  
  
She had a few advantages, she knew where the helicopter was going to land, she knew where Greer was and he didn’t know she and Reese were rapidly converging on the landing sight. Unfortunately she had lost her weapon after blowing the C4 in the server room, but improvisation was something she was good at.  
  
Her improvising comes in the form of a figure, its back to Shaw, rising up from behind a large boulder. As the figure starts to turn, she realizes that it’s one of Greer’s guards and he’s wearing what appears to be a tactical vest. Not having the time to waste fighting the guard, Shaw slaps her hands on the boulder and using her momentum, she swings her legs in an arc. Her feet connect with the guards head, throwing him sideways where his head slams into the boulder, knocking him out cold.  
  
Her feet are barely on the ground before she’s kneeling next to the guard, and with the minimum of movements, strips him of his tactical vest, as well as his radio earpiece, and puts them on. She quickly adjusts the vest as she takes a quick inventory. She unholsters and ratchets the slide on the H&K P30 to make sure there’s a live round in the chamber and then checks the clip. Satisfied, she re-holsters it and picks up the other weapon the guard was carrying, “Just what I need,” a H&K G36C assault rifle.  
  
From the amount of weaponry this one guard was carrying, Greer must have amped up his security. She has a quick thought of where the other guards were or did they abandon the base after the C4 explosion? She has more pressing matters to deal with and if she encountered any others, she would simply deal with them.  
  
She quickly checks to make sure there is a live round in the chamber and then checks the magazine of the rifle. Her head tilts slightly as she listens to the whoop whoop of the approaching helicopter. She estimates she has about two minutes before the helicopter lands.  
  
Satisfied with the weapons that the guard had so ‘graciously provided’, she inserts the earpiece, slings the rifle over her back and resumes racing towards the landing site. Now she had another advantage, she’d be able to hear Greer’s communications with the helicopter. She almost felt sorry for any guards, but they had chosen the wrong side and they were standing in her way. Her anger has her running harder towards the Exchange Store.  
  
✶✶✶  
  
Greer forces the main door of the Exchange Store open and listens. He can hear the helicopter getting closer. If he could hear it, so could others. Now he needed to make his way up the road to the cul de sac. It was the perfect place for the helicopter to land but left him exposed on every flank. To keep Samaritan safe, it was a risk he had to take.  
  
He slips out the door, gripping the toolbox in his right hand. Shaw’s snap shot had done more damage to his left arm than he had previously thought. He would bear any pain and suffering to get Samaritan safely away.  
  
At the corner of the building Greer scans the surrounding area before striding across the old parking lot towards the large tree in front of the barracks. His survival instincts warn him that someone is coming and the odds were it wasn’t someone he wanted to encounter. He moves faster and slips into the shadows of the tree, waiting for the helicopter. Anyone that came after him would have a surprise for there were six well armed guards in the helicopter. Not too mention the armaments the helicopter carried.  
  
Normally he would rather remain in the shadows and not draw attention to himself but escape from The Machine and its compatriots was paramount. But these are troubled times. Ms. Groves’ trojan horse distraction that had allowed The Machine to gain entrance to Samaritan’s servers was far more troubling.  
  
When the servers began to overheat from the battle the two AI’s were waging, he had been forced to hurriedly download Samaritan and then activate the fail safe protocol. He had never expected to ever have to initiate that protocol, but The Machine’s human components were far more determined than he had ever expected.  
  
There was a distinct possibility that The Machine would be caught within the confines of the servers and be destroyed. If it managed to escape, then it would have to rebuild its human component if Ms. Groves, Shaw and Reese had perished in the explosion. Unfortunately, as recent events have proven, neither scenario had come to fruition.  
  
✶✶✶  
  
’Spiderman’ pushes on the ‘kinda blocked’ pile of rocks to reveal the same passageway that Greer had taken. He spots a blood trail. “Your guy went this way.”  
  
“How close are we?”  
  
“About 100 meters.”  
  
Reese taps his ear bud, “Finch anything on Greer?”  
  
_“The helicopter is less than two minutes out.”_  
  
Reese and ‘Spiderman’ are moving faster down the passageway, “Type of helicopter?”  
  
_“Black Hawk and it’s armed with….”_  
  
“A lot of killing power. Anything from Shaw?”  
  
_“Ms. Shaw is on her way but I’ve lost communication with her.”_  
  
“And Root?”  
  
_“She’s alive but not responding.”_  
  
“Understood.”  
  
Reese and ‘Spiderman’ begin running down the passageway. Their faces are the exact opposite of each other. ‘Spiderman’ has a look that’s eerily similar to Shaw when she’s about to kick ass and have fun doing it. Reese’s is more concern that Greer’s going to get away and how pissed Shaw’s going to be without Root.  
  
✶✶✶  
  
Shaw slows down as she reaches the old gymnasium. She can hear how close the helicopter is from landing. She’s not surprised when The Machine’s voice comes over the radio that she ‘borrowed’ from Greer’s guard. _“You have thirty seconds.”_  
  
“How many on board?”  
  
_“Six fully armed, two pilots.”_  
  
A smile blossoms on Shaw’s face. Six is almost enough for her to work out her frustrations over Root being injured and the situation with Bodil. “Reese?”  
  
_“He is less than one minute away.”_  
  
She unslings the H &K G36C assault rifle, “Tell him if he doesn’t get here soon,” and flips off the safety, “He’s going to miss all the fun.” She moves forward stealthily, using the pathway to the cul de sac rather than cutting through the woods. Time was of the essence but she wanted Greer to come out in the open before making her presence known.  
  
She takes cover behind a tree about ten feet back from where the clearing begins when she feels the wash from the blades as the helicopter begins to descend.  
  
As the helicopter descends the doors slide open on both sides. Three men appear in the doorway on each side, weapons at the ready. When the landing skids are less than five feet off the ground, all six men leap out. They spread out, taking defensive positions thirty feet away from the helicopter, locking down the landing site. She smirks as the guards fail to get out from under the wash from the blades which means their hearing would be compromised.  
  
She keeps low as she peers around the tree, “Where are you hiding Greer?” She spots the three men on the opposite side of her heading for a large tree that’s in front of the barracks. One stops and turns around, weapon at the ready. Her radio crackles to life letting her hear the communications between the helicopter pilot and the guards.  
  
_Package retrieved. ETA 10 seconds.”_  
_“Confirmed.”_  
  
The other two men form a human shield around Greer, who has appeared out of the shadows of the tree. The toolbox is still clutched in his hand. They begin moving towards the helicopter.  
  
She fires one round at the leg of the lead guard in front of Greer and smiles when a faint scream is heard when the guard collapses, his leg broken and bleeding profusely. But these guards were better trained than the security in the base. The one on the ground, sits up, his weapon steady and ready to be used.  
  
The other two guards pull Greer back towards the limited protection that is provided by the tree. Until they locate the shooter they can’t risk Greer’s life by exposing themselves as they try to get to the helicopter.  
  
_“Location of shooter?”_  
_“Unknown.”_  
  
She can feel the uncertainty of the guards as their eyes are flickering everywhere trying to locate her. But what she hears next has her rapidly adjusting her plans.  
  
_“Fall back. Package protection is paramount.”_  
_“Understood.”_  
  
She knows the guards are closing ranks which means she can’t wait for Reese and risk Greer escaping. She says,”Tell Reese to move his ass,” and to her surprise, She answers, _“ETA less than 30 seconds.”_ She flips the selector switch to the three shot burst. “Not soon enough.” She leans to her left and lets off two quick bursts hitting one of the guards in both legs and a shoulder, knocking him to the ground. The ground and the tree around her erupts when the remaining two guards open fire on her.  
  
She quickly rolls to her right, popping up to fire another two bursts, taking out another guard before rolling back to her left. The first guard she shot and the one closest to her are firing at her and their bullets are impacting all around her. She’s lucky that the way the helicopter had landed, that it’s weapons aren’t usable or she would have already been toast.  
  
She flips the selector to full auto, rolls out just enough to fire at the rear rotor. To her dismay, the bullets ricochet off the modified armor. She releases the empty magazine and quickly inserts a new one.  
  
Reese and ’Spiderman’ emerge from the underground passage into the store and what they hear, a helicopter and gunfire, has both of them moving rapidly towards the door. They look out to find that all of Greer’s men on the ground are looking towards the rear of the copter. Reese points to the figures that are hiding behind the tree, “There.” Neither has to state the obvious, that they need to stay out of the field of fire of the copters weapons. Reese taps his ear bud knowing that She would connect him with Shaw if possible. “Shaw?” He can hear the amusement in her voice and the bullets hitting nearby, _“Nice of you to join the party.”_ He chuckles, “I was in the area and thought I’d drop in. How many?”  
  
_“Two out, one down and still fighting, two protecting Greer and one still on my side. They’re moving.”_  
  
Even over the helicopter noise, Reese can hear the automatic gunfire. He exits the store with ’Spiderman’ right behind him. They charge around the corner of the store and begin to cross the old parking lot. They can see the pilot talking and then bullets begin whizzing through the air around them.  
  
The first guard that Shaw had shot, rolls over and begins firing at Reese and ‘Spiderman’. He empties one magazine and before he can reload he falls over when four rounds hit him.  
  
The two guards place themselves between Greer and Reese as they begin to run for the safety of the copter. Both men are sustaining hits from Reese and ‘Spiderman’ but refuse to fall.  
  
Shaw darts out from behind her cover, firing her weapon at the last guard on her side. She grunts when a bullet slams into one of the extra magazines in the vest. It’s painful, but not debilitating. She empties her magazine and replaces it as she continues to run towards the copter.  
  
To her dismay the door on this side of the copter slides shut. If the smaller rotor was protected by modified armor, then its guaranteed the doors are similarly protected. She dives for the ground and begins firing at the legs of Greer and the two guards. She watches, with extreme satisfaction, as all three men fall to the ground.  
  
Surprisingly, her eyes lock with Greer’s and its not the look of a defeated person or one that has just had his legs shot out from under him but the smug look he always seems to have on his features. The smug look of you will never stop me or Samaritain no matter how hard you try.  
  
Her eyes narrow in anger from everything this pompous bastard has done. From all the simulations she was forced to endure, from unleashing Samaritan on the world and for the numerous times he had sent Martine and other lackeys to try and kill Root. Sooner or later we all die and today was Greer’s. She pulls the trigger and to her utter dismay it clicks empty. Rather than taking the time to insert a new magazine, she tosses the weapon to one side, unholsters the H &K P30 revolver and aims for Greer. But he’s being raised off the ground before she can fire a shot.  
  
The toolbox Greer had been cradling to his body, as if it was the most important thing in the world, has been left behind. In an instant she realizes that the toolbox probably contains the Samaritan program and she begins firing. Her first two shots slam into the toolbox. The next shot goes awry when one of the guards has managed to slither closer and kicks her hard in her right shoulder.  
  
She blocks another kick with her right arm, turns slightly and, using her left hand, she shoots him in the leg, breaking it. She rolls over to find that the toolbox is no longer on the ground and the rotors are increasing their rotation as the helicopter prepares to lift off.  
  
She re-holsters her pistol, grabs her discarded rifle and stands. She slams in a new magazine and begins firing as the helicopter lifts off. Her bullets are simply ricocheting off the armor. She slaps in another magazine and keeps firing, knowing it won’t do any good.  
  
As the helicopter rises, it swings around, it weapons baring down on her. Before the first bullet exits the barrel, she spins on her heel and is flat out flying towards the relative safety of the trees. The ground behind her erupts into geysers of dirt as the bullets churn up the ground.  
  
The helicopter moves forward, swinging its nose towards where Shaw had disappeared, descends and continues firing. Parts of trees, rocks, dirt and other debris are flying everywhere as the barrage of bullets destroy everything in their path.  
  
A small draw appears in the forest in front of Shaw. It doesn’t appear to be deep but it may provide some protection. She drops her rifle as she dives feet first into the draw, the bullets just miss hitting her. To her surprise and relief, the draw is far deeper than she thought and she’s able to slide further down getting more protection from the bullets that are either flying over the top or are slamming into the rim. She covers her head as dirt and debris continuously rains down on her.  
  
Reese and ‘Spiderman’ can do nothing but watch as the helicopter opens fire on Shaw. When the copter follows Shaw, while still firing at her, they quickly move behind the tree, where Greer had taken refuge, to avoid being fired upon. They watch as the helicopter ceases firing, lifts up and flies off.  
  
Reese taps his ear bud, “Shaw?” There’s no response, “Damn it Shaw answer me.” Still not getting a response, he takes off running with ‘Spiderman’ close behind.  
  
The firing finally stops and she hears the helicopter begin to lift. She takes a deep breath, wincing slightly from the various nicks, cuts and bruises she’s sure adorns her body from the flying debris, her feet first dive, her run through the forest and the fight with Bodil.  
  
Reese and ’Spiderman’ stop when they find Shaw’s rifle. There’s little left of it after being riddled with bullets. As they look around they see where the edge of the draw had been that’s now been shredded by the copter’s bullets. “Shaw.” He notices the churned dirt shifting and is quickly on his knees using the stock of the rifle to dig through the dirt.  
  
She begins digging herself out when she hears a muffled, _“Root will kick your ass if you die on her.”_ She shifts and some of the dirt caves in giving her an opening to begin crawling out. As one hand emerges from out of the dirt, its seized by Reese and her other hand is grasped by ‘Spiderman’. They pull her up and out of what could have easily been her grave.  
  
As Shaw brushes the dirt off of herself, Reese takes the time to study her. He notes the nicks and cuts on her arms and face that reflect her maniacal dash through the forest. He had had the same minor injuries doing the same thing. The obvious bullet hole in the vest was more concerning until he looked closer and realized that the magazine had blocked the bullet. There’s probably one hell of a bruise but from the looks of her it was simply one of many bruises she had gained today.  
  
His simple, “Root?” Has her looking at him and what he sees reflected, he’s only seen twice before. The first time was when Root was about to storm the Samaritan server farm alone and the second was earlier today. So he says the same thing now as he did those times, “Go.”  
  
She nods her head, spins and bolts through the woods back towards Root.  
  
He taps his ear bud, “Finch.”  
  
_“Mr. Reese, were you able to stop Mr. Greer from escaping?”_  
  
“No.”  
  
_“That is rather unfortunate.”_  
  
“Not sure Greer would agree with that. Shaw shot him as well as the toolbox he was protecting.” He can envision Finch’s eyes widening at the thought of the Samaritain program being irrevocably damaged by the bullets tearing through the metal box.  
  
_“Samaritain?”_  
  
“Probably.” He glances back towards where Greer’s men are, “You might want to contact our friend to lock down the area.”  
  
_“She’s been contacted and is sending people.”_  
  
“And the helicopter?”  
  
_“Unfortunately they’ve gone dark. Is Ms. Shaw…”_  
  
“She’s already on her way back to Root.”  
  
_“Good. I would suggest you and your friend leave also.”_  
  
“Understood.”  
  
“Shaw always this intense?”  
  
Reese smiles, “No. That was the softened version.” The look of astonishment and disbelief that appears on ’Spiderman’ has Reese chuckling.  
  
“That was soft?”  
  
“For her, yes.” He starts to walk in the same direction Shaw had taken, “Time to get out of here.”  
  
‘Spiderman’ shakes his head, “Don’t think I want to see her really angry.”  
  
He reflects on how Shaw had been when she first had agreed to work with Finch and himself and knows that that woman still simmers below the surface. The relationship Shaw had with Root made her softer but made her that much more dangerous. He’d never admit it out loud, but this softer version of Shaw terrified him far more than when he first met her because, now, she had more to lose. “No, you don’t.”  
  
✶✶✶  
  
Root’s eyes flutter open when she hears the helicopter’s weapons begin firing. She laughs and immediately clutches her sides from the pain. She knows exactly who is responsible for the helicopter unleashing its weapons. In fact she can imagine Shaw staring down the helicopter in a game of chicken.  
  
She knows deep in her soul that Shaw is alive. She had too much to live for now. Besides…her thoughts trail off when she hears voices coming along the trail. That sound like a group of, from the different voices she can hear, four hikers. She almost laughs again when she hears what they’re talking about.  
  
I’m telling you that was gunfire.”  
“Right. And they were doing what?”  
“Stopping someone from escaping the secret base we all know is here.”  
“Didn’t you read about the latest encounter?”  
“Riiiiight. And why would a government operative need a map of the secret entrances?”  
“They’d need one if they didn’t know where they were?”  
“And what…whoa what is that?”  
  
Root watches as one hiker points towards the sky and she looks to where they’re pointing. A helicopter rises into the sky.  
  
One of the hikers uses binoculars to get a better view of the helicopter. “There aren’t any markings.”  
“Told you a secret government operation.”  
  
Root’s chuckle and her grimace has the hikers turning as one to gape at her. She waves her hand at them, “Hi. Do you have some water I could have?” Without even thinking about it, one of the hikers offers her a bottle of water from their pack. She takes it, opens it and immediately takes a drink. “Thanks.”  
  
“Who…Who are you?”  
“What happened to you?  
  
Root chooses to ignore the first question. “A slight...misunderstanding.”  
  
“Riiiight.”  
“A slight misunderstanding?”  
  
The four hikers are a mixture of concerned and confused when Root closes her eyes and tilts her head to one side as if she was falling a sleep. “Lady, are you okay?” They take a step back when her eyes open and her smile is so radiant it almost has them forgetting that she’s injured. “Why are you smiling at us?”  
  
“I’m not smiling at you.” Her eyes are sparkling, not at the hikers who are stepping away from her, but from the one word that She, and not in Her voice, has transmitted through her implant, _“Root.”_ That one simple word from Sameen was not only a balm to every part of her bruised body but to her heart and her soul.  
  
“I knew you’d come back for me.”  
  
The hikers turn as one to find a black clad, tactical vest wearing Shaw. The numerous cuts, nicks and streaked dirt are indicative that whoever this woman is, she’d been in in one hell of a fight. Their eyes are drawn to her holstered weapon and the rather obvious bullet hole in the vest. And if all of that wasn’t enough to scare them, the steely look made her down right terrifying and combined with the danger she exuded….well this was someone they didn’t want to get on the wrong side of.  
  
“Not sure why?” Shaw walks past the hikers, who step even further away from her.  
  
“You missed me.”  
  
Shaw rolls her eyes, “Yeah. I missed you like I miss an intestinal parasite.” She bends down and lifts Root’s right arm up and over her shoulder. Her left arm wraps around Root’s waist and tightens enough that she’s using her strength to lift the other woman up rather than Root having to expend an excessive amount of energy. Root sighs in relief when most of her weight is supported by Shaw’s strong arms.  
  
One of the hikers spots something at the edge of the trail. He kneels and finds the crushed remains of the detonator box and a battery. Intrigued he stands and says, “I wonder what this does?”  
  
The other hikers turn to look at the box in his hand. They watch as he connects the battery and the red light comes on and begins blinking. It blinks five times and then goes solid. As crushed as the box is, the simple action of connecting the battery has activated the detonation signal and nothing happens.  
  
The hairs on the back of Shaw’s neck stand up and she tightens her hold on Root. Then a muffled boom is heard when the old munitions under the gun battery explode. The concrete encased battery contains most of the explosion but the weaker doors are blown off their hinges.  
  
Water, that had been in the flooded depths of the old base, erupt as geysers at various places around the battery. The four hikers stare dumbfounded at the water. It’s the proof they’ve been looking for to prove the existence of unmapped areas of the base.  
  
If one knew Root, they would have recognized the mirth in her voice when she says, “You might want to get out of here.” The four hikers look at her, not really comprehending what she’s implying. Shaw knows what Root’s doing and plays along and her, “Hey,” snaps them out of their daze and her, “Leave. Now,” finally has them responding.  
  
“Why?”  
  
Root shrugs, “You just destroyed a black site.”  
  
“A black site?”  
  
Root is rolling her eyes, “Secret government installation.” They start to leave when a, “Who are you?” has them looking at the hikers. “Does it matter?”  
  
Leaving behind the confused hikers, they resume slowly walking down the trail. Root whispers, “She said Reese has a vehicle and is meeting us,” she chuckles and grimaces. “I wasn’t expecting this so soon.”  
  
Shaw tightens her grip, “What?”  
  
“We’re on the…Bridal Path.”  
  
Shaw does nothing but roll her eyes and keeps walking. Her grip tightens as she feels Root starting to sag from her injuries.  
  
The hikers watch Shaw and Root walk off.  
“Do you think they were black ops?”  
“Or prisoners in the base?”  
“Did you see the bullet hole in the vest?”  
A helicopter flies overhead, whether it’s military or civilian, doesn’t matter. It spooks the hikers. “I’m getting out of here.” One of the hikers begins to walk but in the opposite direction of Root and Shaw. “That’s not the fastest way out.  
The first hiker looks at Root and Shaw, “If they’re from the secret base, I want to stay as far away from them as possible.” The hiker resumes walking and is soon followed by the other three. Not one of them look back as they break into a run.  
  
✶✶✶  
  
Bodil staggers into the security area. She had seen the helicopter descend, heard the gunfire and then the helicopter fly away. She didn’t need to be told that Greer had once again managed to escape. His escape didn’t bother her, she had found him once, she’d find him again.  
  
But first she needs a first aid kit. She finds one, opens it and begins to deal with her injuries. Her temporary first aid will have to hold until she can get to a doctor and then to the safe house to regroup.  
  
As for Root and Shaw, she had to rethink everything she knew. And that means finding out which version of her brother’s death was the truth. Someone was lying to her and when she finds out who, they will pay.  
  
✶✶✶  
  
Finch has multiple maps on the monitors. The ETA of five hours Greer had stated is reflected in the maps. One map is five hours by car, another is five hours by plane, five hours by boat and five hours by helicopter. The possibilities are endless but at least they know there is a beta site.  
  
He had asked their friend to use all of their resources to track Greer’s escape copter, but so far they had managed to evade all radar and remain dark. He has a sudden thought. “Run a search to see if anyone is manually blocking the transponder on the helicopter.” The word ‘searching,’ appears on a monitor.  
  
He had contacted Elias to check on Det. Fusco’s condition as well as to ask him to use his considerable connections to help find the beta site as well as the Omega storage site. Or any rumors about an increase of activity around deactivated military sites.  
  
As elusive as Greer and Samaritan have been, he has to wonder if the Samaritan program was actually contained in the toolbox Shaw was able to shoot. Or was it just a ruse to allow the real program to be safely transported, by other means, from the base. Until he has evidence to the contrary, he has to assume that the Samaritan program is intact.  
  
Despite everything, their family had survived intact, but not unscathed.  
  
✶✶✶  
  
Shaw sits on a coffee table with a well stocked first aid kit sitting next to her as she meticulously stitches the deep gash on Root’s check, who is a sleep on the sofa.  
  
Reese pauses watching Shaw caring for Root, before he enters the room, “How’s she doing?”  
  
“Some hairline fractures, bruised ribs, kidneys, her sternum and the gash on her check. And a lot of deep muscle bruising.” They had been met by a technician with a portable x-ray machine. He had been efficient and more importantly didn’t ask any questions.  
  
“And you?”  
  
To Reese’s surprise, Shaw had consented to the same procedure until he saw her looking at the sleeping Root. He knew she was the only reason Shaw was agreeing.  
  
“Nothing serious.”  
  
“So she’ll be up and pestering you very soon.”  
  
“Probably.” She finishes tying the last stitch and cuts the thread. Her fingers are gentle as she cleans up Root’s cheek and she soothes the crease in her forehead until the she relaxes into a deeper, healing sleep.  
  
Reese taps her on the shoulder and nods towards the door. He walks out of the room and waits for Shaw to join him. She does, but stands so she can keep an eye on Root.  
  
“So this Bodil was from Root’s past?”  
  
“And mine.”  
  
“Someone we should be concerned about?”  
  
She looks at Reese, “Possibly.”  
  
There was so much more that could be said but that was a conversation that needed to happen between Root and Shaw. All he could do was to offer his support.  
  
“If you need anything…”  
  
“I’ll let you know.”  
  
Reese nods to her and starts to walk away when her, “John,” has him turning to look at her. “Yeah.”  
  
“Thanks.” It was just one word that for most people was a throw away word. It carried very little meaning but coming from Shaw, it meant everything.  
  
“You’re welcome.” He watches as she walk back to Root and sits on the coffee table. Her fingers interlace with Root’s as her other hand gently brushes through brunette locks. Smiling at the scene before him he turns and leaves them to heal together.  
  
‘Spiderman” is waiting for Reese at the gate with the vehicle they had used to transport the two women off the base. “They gonna be okay?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“Good. Got intel on that woman. She found a Doc to help fix her up.”  
  
“Where?”  
  
“In Montauk.”  
  
“How bad was she hurt?”  
  
’Spiderman’ chuckles, “Shaw put a beatin on her. Broken collarbone, nose and cheek bone and a dislocated shoulder. From what the Doc was able to see, bruises from top to bottom.”  
  
“Sounds like Shaw. Doc know where she went?”  
  
“Nope. Got guys looking for her.”  
  
Reese glances towards the bungalow, his eyes connecting with the security camera. He nods once and the red light blinks once. He smiles as he gets into the car as does ’Spiderman’. “Lets go and talk to the Doc.” The car starts up and drives off.  
  
Shaw hears the car leave, closes her eyes and breathes a sigh of relief. A soft, “Hey,” derails the rest of her thoughts as her eyes open to find twinkling brown orbs studying her. “You need to stop thinking so much.”  
  
Shaw chuckles at the line she always seems to be saying to Root. “Been waiting for the right moment to say that to me.” Her only answer is a blinding smile.  
  
“Root…”  
  
“No.” She grimaces as she fights against Shaw’s hands that are trying to keep her from sitting up. She does manage to finally sit up and swing her legs around so she can look Shaw in the face. “This,” she indicates her injuries, “Is not your fault.” Her fingers silence Shaw’s response. “We both have pasts. But that’s what they are, our pasts. Do I wish I could change what I’ve done? Except for Trent Russell, mostly yes. But if we weren’t who we were, then what we have right now probably wouldn’t be.” She kisses Shaw. “Being here with you makes everything I’ve endured worth it and I’d do it again if it guaranteed we’d be here at this moment.”  
  
She can see Shaw processing everything that’s been said and decides to give her more time, and space if she needs it, to think. She slowly stands which immediately has Shaw standing. “Where are you going?”  
  
She looks at her blood splattered clothes, “I need a bath and a change of clothes.”  
  
Shaw looks at her own dirty clothes and extends a hand, “Need a hand?”  
  
Root smiles and leans in closer, “You know I love it when you play Doctor.” She gets the expected eye roll and a, “You just can’t help yourself, can you.”  
  
“Not if it means your hands all over my body.” Shaw’s chuckle has Root smiling as they slowly make their way to the bathroom. They still needed to talk and in time they would but now they would revel in being together.  
  
  
TBC


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17  
  
One Week Later  
  
The monitors in the subway reflect the multiple searches that Finch has running. Even with the help of The Machine, they haven’t been able to track the helicopter that had spirited Greer away. Nor had they been able to find any clues to the location of the Beta site and the Omega storage site Greer had referenced in his call. Until the evidence, what little there was of it, was disproved, they had to assume that everything Greer had said was the truth. Or there was the possibility these were simply red herrings.  
  
Finch hobbles out of the train car and turns at the sound of two people approaching. His eyes widen in surprise and delight, “Detective Fusco, it’s good to see you.”  
  
“Hey Glasses. It’s good to be up and moving.”  
  
Reese shakes his head as he walks towards Finch, “Don’t believe him. He was enjoying the hospitality of the rehab center.”  
  
“Rehab. It felt like I was standing between Shaw and a steak.” Lionel shudders at the thought. “Reese told me what happened to Root. How’s she doing?”  
  
“Recovering. Bodil…”  
  
“Bodil? She the one that killed George?”  
  
“Yes. She was after Root..”  
  
“Really Shaw…”  
  
Fusco looks from Reese to Finch, “Wait, who was she after?”  
  
Reese and Finch answer as one, “Both.” Which has Fusco shaking his head, “Why can’t anything be simple with those two?”  
  
Reese laughs, “You have met them, right?”  
  
“Yeah, they were a scary team when they hated each other. Do I even want to know what they’re like now?”  
  
“Well Shaw’s a little softer.”  
  
Fusco clutches his side in pain as he starts laughing at Shaw ever being described as soft. “Like that would ever happen.” He suddenly realizes that neither Reese or Finch are laughing. “You’re serious?”  
  
“She only broke Bodil’s collar bone, nose and cheek bone. Dislocated a shoulder and left her bruised from head to toe. Apparently she also threatened Bodil with what would happen if she ever came near Root again. So, she’s softer.”  
  
“She was scary enough and now.” He shudders and to get his thoughts off of how scary a softer version of Shaw could be, he asks, “What do we know about this Bodil?”  
  
Finch adjusts his glasses, “Unfortunately, very little.”  
  
“She’s gone dark to recover from the beating Shaw gave her?”  
  
“I would too.” Fusco looks at the various monitors. “You still looking for Greer?”  
  
Finch glances at the monitors, “Yes. Unfortunately he has left few clues.”  
  
“How many underground bases are there in the area?”  
  
A new map, within the 5 hour travel time Greer had stated, appears on a monitor with numerous red dots all over the map. “Quite a few.”  
  
“Elias has been helpful in removing some of the options.” A handful of dots disappear from the map. “But as you can see there remain a great number possibilities.”  
  
“And if it isn’t underground? Or a combination of both?”  
  
“That would increase,” Finch begins typing and more red dots appear on the map, “the number of possibilities.”  
  
✶✶✶  
  
Bodil pushes herself in her rehab. Every ache, and there are many, is a simple reminder of her loss of emotional control that allowed Shaw to defeat her. Her anger is not only aimed at Root and Shaw but also Greer. He had played her and that wasn’t something she would forget.  
  
But the worst of her anger was directed at herself. She had believed the trail of crumbs that lead her to The Butcher without doing more research. Her brother would be smacking her in the head for letting her anger and her emotions cloud the logical side of her brain.  
  
If Root was to be believe and her brother was alive in the cafe when she left, then who wanted him dead and why?  
  
Her contacts in Oslo had been searching for all files, whether digital or paper and had found a few entries that had been altered. One was the time the medical unit was dispatched to the scene. They official record had them responding just minutes after the shooting began but the personal paper journal the medical dispatcher kept had the medical unit responding five minutes before the first reports of gunfire. If one wasn’t looking for it, they would never have found the time code was different in the digital record which meant someone had made changes.  
  
Another discrepancy that had appeared was that the scheduled ambulance team had unexpectedly been reassigned just an hour before her brother was shot. The team that responded had been immediately removed from duty and reassigned. The problem was that that team didn’t appear on the official roster except for the brief time they had been called out for her brother’s shooting. Someone had gone to a lot of trouble to alter the events from that day.  
  
As for Shaw, she was ambivalent. Greer’s files had shown her to be a former free lance assassin, but she knew how easily files could be doctored. She and her brother had easily found altered documents to safeguard the shady secrets of powerful companies, individuals and nations.  
  
Shaw had admitted to shooting her brother and that was not something Bodil would ever envision forgiving her for doing. Yet she respected her for two simple reasons. She could have used the standard argument that she was simply following orders and yet she didn’t. She had also defended Root as Bodil had often defended Hávarðr.  
  
Regardless there was one underlining truth, Root’s meeting with Hávarðr had put him in the crosshairs of Shaw’s rifle. As far as she was concerned, they both contributed to his death.  
  
The ringing of the door bell has her grabbing her gun. As she approaches the front door, she stands to one side as a precaution. “Who’s there?” There’s nothing but silence. Rather than opening the door, she exits through a side door, her gun still at the ready, and makes her way to the front porch just in time to see the back of a delivery van driving down the dirt lane.  
  
She looks toward the porch and finds a package leaning against the door. Who would be sending her something? No one knew she was here. The rental had been through a shell company she and her brother often used to disperse money they had ‘borrowed from corrupt companies to needed outlets’ and to disguise their occasional travels. But someone knew she was here and the evidence was sitting in plain view.  
  
Still being careful, she approaches the package and studies it before picking it up. On the address label is Bodil Hávarðr. Now she’s even more confused but if someone wanted her dead, they would have already done it.  
  
She reenters the house and heads for the kitchen. Being cautious, she avoids the packing tape on the top. Instead she picks up a knife and uses it to cut through the bottom flap of the box. A cell phone clatters onto the counter top.  
  
She stares at the phone confused at who would be sending it to her. It starts ringing but she refuses to answer it. The ringing stops, then starts up again. This time she answers and what she hears has her gripping the counter top so hard that her hand turns white.  
  
✶✶✶  
  
Greer, his legs bandaged, is being pushed, by a well armed guard, in a wheelchair down a hallway. Other than the oddly clean floor, the rest of the hallway is badly in need of repairs. The technician, Bodil had scared into wetting his pants, walks next to the wheelchair. “Sir, the retro fit at the Omega site is complete. The last of the servers have been delivered and are being installed.”  
  
“How long before we’re running at full capacity?” The technician hesitates which has Greer raising his hand to stop the movement of the wheelchair. “Is there a problem?”  
  
“The program. We’re not sure to what extent it was changed with the damage it suffered.”  
  
“Have any issues come forth?”  
  
“None, but it hasn’t been running at full capacity.”  
  
“I see.  Are the servers here, still independent of the Omega site?”  
  
“Yes. Until you authorize a change.”  
  
“Good. I want us at full capacity by the end of the day.” He glares at the technician that stops any kind of response. “If there are any problems we’ll know soon enough and can take the appropriate steps needed. Also monitor any possible attempts, from the outside or from within, at making a connection to the outside. “  
  
“Anything else?”  
  
“No electronic equipment retrieved is to be connected in any manner to either the servers here or at the Omega site. I don’t want a repeat of the incident at the compound.”  
  
“Yes sir.” The technician walks away and as Greer takes out his phone. He dials a number and as soon as it’s answered, he asks, “Have the contracts been issued?” He listens and smiles, “Good, very good indeed.” He ends the call as the guard resumes pushing him down the hallway.  
  
✶✶✶  
  
Root strolls shoeless along the beach, in a loose button down shirt and shorts, enjoying a feeling of peacefulness for the first time in her life. Her injuries, both the most recent ones as well as the aches and pains she had been dealing with long before the fight with Samaritan, were finally being given a chance to properly heal. Sameen was not only making sure that she was getting sleep, she was also making sure she was eating far better than she has in a very long time.  
  
The first few nights had been some of the hardest she had ever endured. The injuries Bodil had inflicted made sleeping or even finding a comfortable position to rest, nearly impossible. Pain medication, in moderation, helped but she still tossed and turned. There were times where she’d wake up curled into herself from the pain and Sameen’s voice would instantly be whispering words of encouragement, ‘that she wasn’t alone, that it’ll be okay.’ With each soft caress of Sameen’s hands and her voice, the pain would slowly recede until it was no more than a dull ache.  
  
At first she was annoyed that she couldn’t take more than a few steps before the pain became overwhelming. But on the plus side, Sameen’s arms would instantly be around her and that was never, ever a bad thing.  
  
_With their physical activities being restricted, they took the opportunity to talk about Bodil and the roles they had played that day. Root explained how as Radicle she had contacted another extraordinary hacker that went by the name Thor. They were both following the same rumors of a phenomenal program, that if true, would create, if it hadn’t already been created, the first truly autonomous AI._  
  
_She had hesitated in agreeing to meet Thor but he intrigued her. The catastrophic results from that day is why she began using proxies to carry out some of her jobs._  
  
_Sameen’s orders were to deal with Thor. The other sniper, whether she was there for Thor or Root, she didn’t know. What Shaw realized now, was that by shooting the sniper, she had started down the path where she would no longer blindly follow orders._  
  
_Cole had tried to quietly find out everything he could, but only found a news story about a crazed drug user that had gone on a shooting rampage before purportedly overdosing before she could be questioned. The only casualties that had been reported were the victims outside of the cafe. There had been no mention of the man Shaw had been ordered to shoot. No mention of the brunette that had been with the target. Someone had gone to a lot of trouble to bury what truly happened that day. The question was why?_  
  
_Shaw had learned just days before Cole’s death that he had still been looking into what really had happened in Oslo. Unfortunately what ever information he had gathered, died with him._  
  
_They talked in depth about the simulations. About the crudely implanted tracking device that had first lead them to finding Sameen after she had escaped. As well as Greer’s attempt to activate the deeply imbedded program that the Doctor’s had tried to implant in Sameen and the ramifications if it had proven successful. Root had mused about why it hadn’t worked and almost missed the fact that Sameen had gone far quieter than normal. But she didn’t miss it when she got up and walked out. The tension in her body, palpable. Rather than push the issue, which is what the Root of old would have done, she let it go knowing Sameen wouldn’t go far. She’d talk when she was ready._  
  
_That time came later in the day as Root lay stretched out on the couch, her eyes closed, when she hears a quiet, “It was you.” She opens her eyes to find, sitting on the coffee table, Sameen, her hands clenched in front of her. Her eyes boring holes into the floor. “What was me?”_  
  
_“Greer’s program didn’t work because of you.”_  
  
_“Sameen…” Her voice trails off when Sameen’s gaze meets hers. “When we first came here, I told you, on the beach that it was you and you alone that kept me alive.”_  
  
_“I remember.” What she wants desperately is to reach out and pull Sameen into a hug. Instead she sits up and places a hand on her clenched fists, offering her all of her support._  
  
_“Every simulation,” She drops her eyes to the hand that’s covering hers, “and there were thousands of them, ended in failure. I could hear bits and pieces of arguments over what was causing the failures and it was driving them nuts.”_  
  
_“You...,” Root can’t help the chuckle that escapes, “driving someone nuts?”_  
  
_A slight smirk, “Well I learned,” she looks at Root, “from the best.” Rather than answering, Root simply shrugs her shoulders in a what can I say, it’s what I do best._  
  
_Sameen unclenches her hands and takes hold of Root’s hand in the palm of one hand. Her eyes follow the fingers of her other hand as she traces the muscles, bones and soft skin of a hand that offered the gentlest of touches, that offered salvation or could wrought the greatest of destruction. “When I woke up, my first thought was I hadn’t escaped the facility. Then I realized I was in a house but I still thought it was part of Greer’s plan until I heard,” her fingers tap against Root’s finger tips as if she was, “typing. And I knew, in that instant, without having to look, it was the real you.”_  
  
_Her revelation leaves Root almost speechless, “How?”_  
  
_Every protective wall, conscious and unconscious Sameen had left, shattered before Root’s stunned gaze when their eyes met. “The Eeyore, perky psycho, flirting at the worst of times, stealing and drinking from my drink, costumed bear wearing, calling me in the middle of a gunfight, always wanting two guns, that can’t help but invade my personal space, dared to drug me to save my life, that steps on my last nerve, threatened me with an iron the first time we met and tasered me not once but twice,” she lifts a hand and caresses Root’s cheek, “is the one that touched my soul. The one in the simulations…never…ever came close to the real you.”_  
  
_Root’s jaw drops and rather than trying to respond, I mean what could she say, so she does what she does best, she acts. Her fingers tighten and pulls Shaw, who offers no resistance, forward until they are both stretched out on the couch._  
  
_Root studies the tense woman curled against her. Until they’d come to the bungalow, she had never seen her truly relaxed. And that included when she had been forced to tranquilize her, to save her life. Even unconscious, Shaw’s body was so tense that she refused to release the hold on her weapon._  
  
_She gently strokes the length of Sameen’s back as her thoughts drift towards what Sameen had revealed. Despite everything Greer had thrown at her, Sameen had fought and fought. Even when, logically, she shouldn’t have been able to fight any more, she found the one part of her that refused to give up, she had found… a whispered, “A safe place,” has Root looking down into Sameen’s sleepy eyes._  
  
_“No matter what they did. No matter how bad it got.” Her hand slips behind Root’s head and pulls her closer until their lips are almost touching, “you were my safe place.” The kiss is soft and gentle._  
  
_Shaw ends the kiss, her head coming to rest on Root’s shoulder. Her hand slides down until it’s resting over Root’s heart finding comfort in its steady rhythm. The tension in her body gradually dissipates as Root’s fingers resumes gently stroking down her back. As her eyes flutter close, the last thing she feels is a soft kiss to the top of her head and a whispered, “You are my safe place Sameen Shaw.”_  
  
_Root fights her own battle to keep her eyes open. But the warmth of her partner’s body and the unconscious caressing of Sameen’s fingers over her heart has her finally succumbing to a restful sleep._  
  
She lifts her head and smiles from the warmth of the sun bathing her face, warming her not just on the outside but from the inside, it’s a feeling that’s slowly been seeping into every nook and cranny. She never minded being on her own or even being alone. She’d been hiding since she was twelve and had accepted that was her lot in life.  
  
A pair of ship horns echo across the water and it reminds her that she’s no longer alone. That she’s finally found a place where, despite her faults, and there are many, she’s accepted for what she was and what she’s become. She has friends that are willing to walk through the fires of hell to help her as she would do, and has done, for them. She’s finally found, what she never realized until now, a place where she belongs.  
  
But where she truly belongs is with, along side of and in the arms of her other half. And that’s where she wants to be right this moment, where she needs to be. She glances back toward the bungalow, but knows Sameen’s not there. She looks down the beach to find in the distance a small but powerful battering ram running towards her.  
  
Sameen, in running shorts and a phone clipped to the strap of her sports bra, is running to use up some of the excess energy she has coiled in her body. Between Root’s extensive injuries and her own, her bruises were a kaleidoscope of colors, neither had been able to do much, other than recuperate with sleep, food and talking. The only physical activities they had partaken in, the only one Shaw would allow, was walking.  
  
With Root moving more freely, she had taken the opportunity to run and push herself hard. She had always enjoyed running along the beach. The alternating shifting sand with the more hard packed sand from where the water had receded made for a punishing run. With every slap of her feet, the tension in her body was evaporating.  
  
She pushes harder as she remembers finding a battered, bleeding and chained Root, of punishing Bodil, of leaving Root on the trail as she flew through the forest to try and stop Greer once and for all. Of playing chicken with a Black Hawk helicopter. Of diving feet first into the draw and covering her head as the ground around her erupted from a barrage of bullets. Of hearing Reese say, _“Root will kick your ass if you die on her,”_ and knowing how right he was. Then her mad dash back, and to her relief, to find Root alive and where she had left her on the trail.  
  
She didn’t say anything to Root, but there was always a part of her that wondered why she had shot the other sniper. She’d had encounters with other conceited jerks and left them alive but wishing they’d never encountered her. So why, out of all those opportunities, did she chose to dispatch this sniper?  
  
She remembers watching her target and the brunette, her hair partially obscuring her face and wearing glasses, exit the cafe. The chaos that erupted with her shot. The target clutching his chest, falling against the brunette and knocking both of them out of the line of fire. Of the brunette, one hand covered in blood, dragging the target back into the coffee shop.

She’s so lost in her thoughts she’s not even aware of the fact that she’s come to a complete stop and is staring off into the distance.  
  
Without even realizing what’s she’s doing, she unclips her phone, finds the contact she’s looking for and before she can second guess herself, makes the call. A sleepy voice barely has time to answer before she’s saying, “It’s me. Did you find what I asked for?” One toe digs into the sand as she listens to the reply. “Yeah, send it to that address. And Tomás,” her gaze drops, “thanks.” She ends the call then opens an app and quickly begins typing. Once she’s done, she closes the app and absentmindedly reattaches her phone to her bra strap. The ramifications of what she’s set in motion has her taking a deep breath before whispering, “Now it begins”.  
  
She turns and looks from where she had come from and barely discerns a figure standing on the beach. She knew, without a doubt it was Root. Before her mind can even register that she’s moving, her legs are in motion. She’s not running away but towards someone.  
  
Root walks down the beach and stops at the pathway that leads to the outdoor sleeping area. She can see Sameen rapidly approaching and takes the time to admire the graceful and powerful woman who’s only clad in running gear. Her breath hitches and a need, that’s been hidden underneath all the pain of the past week, comes roaring to life.  
  
A sweaty Sameen slows to a walk and can feel the heat of Root’s eyes studying her as she moves closer. “Enjoying the sun?”  
  
“I am.” Root tilts her head to one side. “The view’s not bad either.”  
  
“The view, interesting.” Sameen points toward the sky, “That view?” Root shakes her head no. “So, no sky. How about the,” she points toward the ocean, “ocean?” Again Root shakes her head no. “So not the sky and not the water.” Sameen snaps her fingers, “It’s the sand, right.” Again Root shakes her head no. “So not the sky, the ocean or the sand. Are you going to give me a hint?” Again Root shakes her head no. But this time Sameen steps closer and whispers, “Please.”  
  
Root rolls her eyes, “Nice try, but no.” She starts to walk up the path when a, “You’re wrong,” has her stopping. She spins around, “Excuse me. What exactly am I wrong about?”  
  
“The view,” her heated gaze travels the length of Root’s body until their eyes lock, “is rather good.”  
  
Root’s eyebrow arches, “Good?” Her fingers slowly move to the lowest button on her shirt, “Maybe I can,” and begins to unfasten it, “make the view better.”  
  
As each button is freed, Root’s shirt parts just enough to give a tantalizing glimpse of a black lace bra and smooth skin. As the last button slips free, a husky, “How about now,” has Sameen slowly moving forward. She pushes the lapels of the shirt open until she’s slowly sliding the material off Root’s shoulders and down her slender arms until it floats to the ground. “Much better.”  
   
The multitude of green and yellow colored bruises that cover a good portion of Root’s chest and stomach are a testament that she is healing. As garish as the colors are, it does little, in Sameen’s eyes to, diminish her beauty.  
  
Sameen’s fingers gently trail upwards over shoulders, across collarbones, skimming over the lace covered breasts to come to rest on Root’s hips. She can feel the warm flesh quivering with every stroke of her thumbs as they trace the edge, and occasionally dip underneath, the waist of Root’s shorts.  
  
The cell phone is unclipped and falls to the sand as Root’s hands slide up and around her other half’s neck. The mischievous glint in her eyes is a welcoming sight. “I think you need to lie down.”  
  
A moan is husked in Sameen’s ear when her hands slide upward until her thumbs are just grazing the underside of Root’s breasts. “I’m not really tired.”  
  
Root pulls a willing body into hers as her voice, laced with reawakened passion husks out, “Neither am I.” She begins walking backwards pulling a very willing Sameen with her. When they reach the bed, Root spins them around and with a shove, sends her sprawling on to the bed.  
  
Sameen props herself up on her elbows. So lost in watching Root slowly parting the top of her shorts, she doesn’t even realize that she’s toed off her shoes and socks. Her eyes darken as the zipper is lowered and with a little shimmy, the shorts drop unimpeded to the ground. She holds up her hand and smiles as Root accepts the offer and joins her on the bed.  
  
With everything that had happened in the last week, their passion, that was always simmering just below the surface, had been dampened as their bodies recovered. Root was still tossing out innuendos and Sameen was still rolling her eyes in response. They were still a four alarm fire and always would be. Today the fire was under control as their touches were neither desperate or rushed. They were simply letting their need and passion for each other reawaken.  
  
  
  
TBC  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	18. Chapter 18

Epilogue  
  
Root pauses on the top step overlooking the outdoor area. A slight blush colors her cheeks from the memories of when she and Sameen had first christened the area and their more recent exploits. But what she saw before her, takes her breath away. Scattered everywhere is a mixture of candles, flame bowls and hurricane lights. Each flame flickers in the slight wind and reflects off the grass blades creating the illusion that thousands of little lights are shimmering, in an uncoordinated dance, over the sand.  
  
In the middle of the dancing lights is the fire-pit containing the glowing embers of a banked fire. A pile of driftwood rests near the embers just waiting for a flame to ignite them. Near the cooking plate is a domed food cover and knowing Sameen there are steaks just waiting to be cooked.  
  
As she gazes at the romantic setting before her, she contemplates everything that had  happened in the last two weeks. Most of the injuries Bodil had inflicted on her, and Sameen, were well on the way to being healed. The bruises have almost completely faded and only the faint healing red line where her cheek had been split open gave any hint to what had happened. Sameen’s deep tissue massages had made sure every part of her was well taken care of. She had reciprocated in kind, oh how she had reciprocated.  
  
_Over the past few days Sameen’s demeanor had changed. She had caught her lost in thought or studying her and then nodding as if she finally had the solution to a puzzle that had been eluding her for sometime. But to Root’s surprise, she was also being, and it was something she had never expected to ever see in Sameen, nervous. She just didn’t know about what._  
  
_Being curious, okay if she was being truthful, she was being a snoop. After all, her mother told her to follow her talents and snooping, she was very, very good at doing. She knew there had been special deliveries, that coincidentally seemed to happen when she was taking a nap. She had quietly and quickly searched the bungalow, as well as some of the possible outside hiding places. But to her consternation she had discovered nothing. No shipping boxes, packing peanuts or anything else that would indicate a package of any kind had ever been delivered._  
  
_Even though she could have asked about the deliveries or had fun trying to seduce the information out of Sameen, she decided, in a very unRoot like action, to quit snooping and let whatever plans Sameen had in motion to unfold on her timetable._  
  
_Earlier today when she walked into their bedroom she knew that whatever Sameen had been planning was about to be revealed. A small table stood in front of her with an envelope resting on its surface that’s addressed to her. Behind the table, hanging on a valet stand, was a zippered garment bag._  
  
_A soft smile curves her lips as one finger slowly traces her name that’s written in Sameen’s distinctive elegant script. She picks it up and taps it against her chin. To say she was intrigued at what was in the envelope was an understatement. She removes the card and chuckles as she reads it. Her fiery other half is requesting her presence, at 8PM, at the outdoor area, wearing the garment in the bag, sans shoes. In parenthesis at the bottom of the card are two words, turn over. She flips the card and laughter fills the room at what she reads; lingerie optional._  
  
_Still chuckling, she sets the card down and reaches for the zipper on the garment bag. As she lowers the zipper, the sides part giving her a glimpse of something blue. She reaches into the bag and removes a blue dress similar to the one she had worn on one of her visits to see Sameen at the cosmetics counter. It’s silk, it’s soft and so light weight that it will feel as if she’s wearing nothing at all. “Oh Sameen.”_  
  
_Part of her wanted to seek out her other half and immediately thank her for the card, the dress and for simply being her. But that would mean she’d interrupt Sameen’s plans for tonight, so she decides to wait and thank her later. And she would be thanking her, repeatedly._  
  
She smiles at the memory. If she wanted to know what Sameen had planned, she’d have to take the final steps. She takes a deep breath, brushes her hands over her dress to calm the butterflies, which she wasn’t expecting, before walking through the dancing reflections of light. Her smile grows when she finds more hurricane lights around the outside bed that are creating a warm and cozy ambiance. Sitting on a low table is a bottle and next to it are two glasses. There’s one thing missing that would make this perfect and that was Sameen.  
  
Sameen walks among the sand dunes trying to calm her breathing and her racing heart.  It had taken far longer than she expected to make sure everything was set up exactly how she wanted and to light all of the candles before Root’s imminent arrival.  
  
With every step, she can feel the straps of her dress exerting extra pressure that reminds her that tonight is the fruition of her plans. When she hears approaching footsteps, she takes a deep, calming breath. Being careful to stay out of the light from the candles and the other lights, she silently observes Root standing on the top step of the outdoor area.  
  
She had left nothing to chance, but this situation was far out of her comfort zone. In fact, what she was about to do to was never, ever, a possibility until she met Root. The infuriating woman that would flirt at the worst of times, that refused to stop looking for her and had knocked down every wall, and some she wasn’t even aware of having built.  
  
_When the bottle and the garment bag, containing the dresses, had been delivered, she wasn’t expecting to find, of all people, Elias holding the packages at the gate. He had inquired about Root’s health, as well as her own, and was pleased to know they were both healing. To her surprise, he had thanked her before handing her a card and told her that if she or Root needed anything, anything at all, a phone call was all that would be needed. He smiled his enigmatic smile, nodded to her, turned and walked away._  
  
_The final piece she was waiting for was what she had asked Tomás to send. It had arrived earlier today due to The Machine having expedited its delivery. She’s not sure how long she stood at the gate staring at the package in her hand, knowing everything that it represented. She had already spent an inordinate amount of time questioning herself after she had made the phone call to Tomás. But any misgivings that remained over what she was about to do, vanished when she looked at Root._  
  
_She knew Root had been trying to find out what she was up to, but to her surprise her perky psycho had simply stopped looking and never asked. Though there were raised eyebrows and questioning looks directed at her, never once did Root ask what she was doing._  
  
The sound of laughter brought her back to the present. She steps into the outdoor area finding Root holding the bottle and laughing. She hadn’t chosen champagne but a bottle of a Single Malt Texas Whiskey. “It reminds me of you.” Root turns to find Sameen, wearing a black dress, that leaves little to the imagination, sans shoes, standing next to the fire-pit. “Because we both kick ass?”  
  
“Partially.” Sameen’s eyes flicker to the bottle. “It looks unassuming when in reality…” Her eyes slowly peruse the blue clad beauty until they reach Root’s sparkling eyes, “it’s very…very complex.”  
  
The intensity of Sameen’s gaze has Root blushing. To hide how affected she is, she dips her head until a curtain of hair blocks her view. She almost drops the bottle when she hears, “Do you remember Tomás?”  
  
There were very few names that could arouse contempt or anger in her, but the mere mention of that name has her face darkening in jealousy. “Is he still in Barcelona?” Comes out far harsher than she intended.  
  
Sameen shrugs her shoulders, “There and other places.” She picks up a piece of driftwood and studies it. “When I hesitated about going with him, he knew,” she looks at Root, “you were the main reason.” Root’s head snaps up to meet Sameen’s gaze. “I argued that you were annoying, you were presumptuous and a pain in my ass.”  
  
A slight quirk of Root’s lips is followed by a truthful, “Still am.”  
  
“So true.” She slowly pokes the embers resulting in a small flame reigniting. “He wasn’t even surprised when I called him later.”  
  
Root’s eyes widen in shock, “You what? Why did…Were you…” She trails off at the indulgent look on Sameen’s face. “Sorry. You were saying?”  
  
Her eyes never leave Root’s, “I needed him to find something.” She pokes the embers, increasing the flames until it’s close to the pile of waiting driftwood. “He agreed, if I’d answer one question.” She watches amused as a litany of possible questions, good or bad, race across Root’s features.  
  
“Which was?”  
  
Sameen recounts the memories of the night that changed everything. She pokes the embers again. “That night on the street when I said I stayed because there were people I cared about here, something in me changed. A spark that I never thought I was capable of feeling. And, later, when She told me your number had come up, that spark,” she shoves the driftwood into the embers, twisting it as the fire flares and catches the waiting pile of driftwood on fire, “erupted.”  
  
Whatever jealousy Root had towards Tomás is slowly receding, but there is still something she needed to know. “Is that what Tomás wanted to know?”  
  
“No.” Sameen’s eyes, free of any of her many walls, meets Root’s equally unguarded gaze, “He wanted to know how I knew you were the one?” Root’s eyes widen at the sudden epiphany that this was the impetus for Shaw’s actions. “That’s why you created the plan to save me. But…” Root trails off as she thinks of all the possible scenarios that could have transpired.  
  
Root’s hand covers her mouth in shock. She shakes her head, “You, Sameen Shaw, are beyond amazing.” Her eyes are glistening from unshed tears as a tension relieving chuckle escapes. That first chuckle quickly turns into an eruption of laughter, not at Sameen but for everything that Sameen had done for her, the hell she had survived simply to protect her. She walks over, her hands cupping Sameen’s face, “Do you have any idea how much I love you?”  
  
Sameen wipes away the few tears that have managed to escape from Root’s eyes, “Yeah, I do too.” They gaze at each other thinking about everything they’ve endured to reach this moment in time. They silently agree they’d do it all again if it meant they would be standing on this beach, together, at this moment.  
  
“That’s why I contacted Tomás last week.”  
  
Root drops her hands as she cants her head to one side. She can’t help the hint of  jealousy coloring her, “What did you need from him?”  
  
“To send me what I asked him to find.” She rests one finger over Root’s mouth, “Let me finish.” Root nods and shivers when Sameen’s finger caresses her lips before removing her hand entirely.  
  
She reaches behind her back, “I asked him,” and pulls her closed hand back in front, “to find me,” and opens her hand, ”this.” Resting in her palm is a small black box.  
  
A soft, tearful, “Sameen,” is all that Root can say as she looks from the box to the woman that’s had her heart since that fateful day when, at five pm, she had opened the door of room 1458 at the Suffolk Hotel.  
  
Sameen’s voice is strong and steady. “Do you remember what I asked you about your last breath?”  
  
Root’s voice is equally strong as she says, “That it shouldn’t happen for a very long time.”  
  
Sameen opens the box, revealing a silver ring with an inner band of dark blue turquoise that has a saying engraved in Persian. She removes the ring, the box falling to the ground, “I want your every breath,” she lifts Root’s left hand up, “from now,” she slides the ring onto a trembling finger, “to your last one,” she slowly places Root’s hand over her heart, “to be with me.”  
  
Tears are coursing down Root’s cheeks. She can feel the warm skin and the fluttering of Sameen’s heart, that beats for her, under her hand, “Only if you promise me the same.” And the, “Okay,” which was such a Sameen answer, that she can’t do anything but laugh. She leans closer, her lips curling into a smile and her, “Okay then,” has Sameen’s lips curling into a matching smile.  
  
The steaks would be eaten at some point. The whiskey, it would be thoroughly enjoyed from the bottle, from the glasses and from each woman’s body. The bed, well it would also be thoroughly used, just not for sleeping until the dawn of a new day when two exhausted bodies finally demanded respite. As for the lingerie option, they would find out that both of them had taken the option.  
  
There would be more battles, that was a guarantee. But in this moment nothing else mattered. These two women, that had been walking alone in the world most of their lives, had finally found a place they could call home.  
  
Root would eventually ask what the engraving meant. It was simple and it would leave her speechless for she felt the same way, **You are my heart.**  
  
The kiss was a bonding of two souls, an affirmation that they were one. It was a healing kiss and a promise for eternity kiss. It was simply everything.  
  
  
  
The End


End file.
